


Luke & Vader One-Shots

by Slx99



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slx99/pseuds/Slx99
Summary: Series of one-shots and short stories revolving around Luke & Vader and their relationship, usually about Vader finally capturing Luke. Some will be more fun, some a bit angstier. Mostly absolutely AU.





	1. Content

**Author's Note:**

> As so many others, I was heavily inspired by sparklight’s Intrepid Hero one-shot series to start writing myself (if you haven't yet read them, you NEED to). While I have some longer stories cooking, I have decided to also put out some one-shots that are unlikely to ever be turned into anything longer, but maybe are also a waste just sitting on my computer (well, you decide).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added these short summaries, I hope that they are helpful. But this is no 'update-clickbait' so I also added a brand-new story, too.

**2: Parade Ground Perfect**

An undercover mission in an Imperial outpost brings Luke right into the middle of a welcome committee for none other than Lord Vader. Now he has keep his head down to avoid being detected.

 

**3: Night Out**

After completing their tasks for the Alliance, Han suggests that he and Luke earned a night out to 'stretch their legs'. Unused to drinking and other substances, Luke soon finds himself dangerously inebriated on an Imperial occupied planet (Humor).

 

**4: The Holiday**

Admiral Piett is forced into a holiday he’s never wanted and it only gets worse from there as the resort world he is supposed to relax on happens to be the scene of a rebel operation(Humor).

 

**5: Blood**

Faced with irrefutable proof that Lord Vader holds his father, Anakin Skywalker, prisoner, Luke has no choice but to surrender himself in exchange.

 

**6: The Talk**

Well, basically this is Vader fulfilling his duty as a diligent parent to give his son the birds and bees talk (Humor, even though Luke might not agree that this was fun at all).

 

**7: Mustafa**

Too good-hearted for his own good, Luke can’t even let leave his archenemy to a fiery death, with unwanted consequences.

 

**8: The Dancer**

In search of a force sensitive individual hiding among the ranks of dancers, Vader has the prestigious First Ballet of Coruscant raided (Not humor, despite the ridiculous notion of mixing Star Wars with ballet).

 

**9: Insidious:**

Luke is Sidious’ apprentice and in a dangerous and open rivalry with Vader. It takes Obi-Wan to make Vader realize that he shares more with the boy than just his master (includes violence, references of torture and (minor) character death).

 

**10: The Interrogator**

The Alliance has managed to capture Darth Vader. In exchange for the well of information Vader can provide, they agree to his condition that he would only talk to a certain rebel commander.

 

NEW:

**11: The Imperial Galactic Seed Vault**

Inspired by the following headline: I Can’t Protect My Son From Everything, But If I Lock Him In The Svalbard Global Seed Vault I’ve Narrowed The Threat Down To Just Seeds.


	2. Parade Ground Perfect

+++

Luke stood as tall and stiff as he could, but he wouldn’t be surprised when they would notice something was amiss just by his nervous sweating. Left and right of him two Imperial Lieutenants stood so close that their shoulders nearly connected. His rebel instincts told him to run, but he knew that that would be a poor choice. The hangar he was in was practically crawling with Imperials and the next door was far from where he stood. They would gun him down before he made it even halfway. And even if he made it, with the entire garrison on his tail they would catch him. He knew that.

Luke tried to calm his breathing as much as he could. _Concentrate on the positive, flyboy_. _Stand still and keep quiet._ So far they had not noticed that he wasn’t who he pretended to be, they didn’t know that right in the middle of their assembly one of the most wanted rebels was hiding. If they would get wind of this he had a fair idea of what would happen to him. General Madine had given him the pep talk when the astronomically high bounty had been released that offered six million Imperial credits for his life capture and delivery into Imperial custody.

More correctly into the Emperor’s right hand man’s custody. As their Bothan contacts had told them, Lord Vader had personally been tasked with capturing Luke and had mobilized his entire flag division Death Squadron dedicated to find and capture him.

This was his first ground mission since the bounty had come out and Luke had been elated that he was finally being sent out again, he had been afraid tHigh Command would continue to see it as too dangerous for him to be out there where he could potentially be captured. Well his task had been simple enough, to sneak into this garrison in search of a clue of the Empire’s newest TIE fighter program the rebel spy network had gotten wind of. They were rumored to be developed here. 

He had landed his fighter in the forest surrounding the base and then hiked to the small entrance he had found while doing a quick sweep of the area with his X-Wing’s sensors. He had gotten lucky and managed to sneak up upon an unsuspecting Imperial who had been out to smoke a forbidden stick. Luke had quickly overpowered him and tied him up after he had appropriated his uniform. Hiding his own fatigues and pulling the cap matching the unlucky Lieutenant’s outfit deep into his face as not to be recognized, Luke had set off to find any evidence of the plans.

All had went well until he had been surprised by an enraged looking officer, who had caught up with him right outside the restricted area he was sneaking around. His heart had dropped to the floor, but the Imperial had just shouted him down and then sent him to the hangar where apparently the original owner of the uniform had been supposed to report to. The Imperial had ordered two Stormtroopers to escort him there as to make sure Luke would arrive. Luke had clenched his teeth at that, no sneaking away possible, then.

So he had ended up in this crowded hangar, where he had been shouted at some more for being late until he had arranged himself near the end of the neat lines of Imperial officers and ground personnel, pilots and troopers. They stood in two long lines facing each other. Behind him Luke could hear the occasional rustle of armor when the squads of Stormtroopers shifted slightly. _Nowhere to run, flyboy_. The cap was still pulled deep in his face and no one had questioned his presence yet. _Just keep quiet and all will be well_. Maybe this was just some regular drill they made.

“Attention,” someone shouted and everyone seemed to pull themselves to an even more rigid posture. Luke frowned under his cap. The distant roar of an engine could be heard, coming closer. Soon it was unmistakable to identify as the engine of an approaching shuttle. Luke blinked and peeked in the direction of the noise. A few moments later a sleek Lambda class shuttle set down in the hangar, the cabin depressurized filling the far side of the hangar with ominous clouds. And then the boarding ramp opened and Luke’s heart stuttered to a stop.

Down the ramp, his wide cape billowing out behind him, strode Darth Vader.

+++

Vader couldn’t help, but feel tired when faced with the tedious ceremony of having to stride down yet another useless assembly of sweating junior officers and troopers, instead of getting straight to the purpose of his visit.

This was all holding him off from his true task. Holding him away from finding his son. Palpatine had found out about his offspring, there was no more opportunity to conceal the boy’s identity. He had ordered him to find the boy and deliver the child to him. Palpatine wanted to turn him and make him his new apprentice, eventually replacing Vader with the boy, he was sure of it. Vader clenched his teeth in anger.

He stopped at the end of the assembly to be greeted by the sycophantic commander of the base. But something was different. Vader felt the pull of the Force. It whispered to him, it quivered around him in anticipation of something big. Vader let the commander talk and reached out with his own Force tendrils, seeking answers from the very fabric of the Force.

He could make out the glimmer of another Force presence nearby, faint, but now he reached for it, it became clearer and brighter. He could sense nervousness, fear, agitation, but also determination. Could one of the assembled officers be Force sensitive? It might be worth to follow up, some of them could be used and those that could not needed to be disposed of before they could fall prey to the corrupted Jedi teachings.

The Commander was still babbling along, some pointed questions from Vader keeping him going, which served him just well. Vader reached deeper into the folds of the Force, probing, searching for the elusive individual. He found the small glimmer in the Force once more and reached for it, more forcefully. It flared at the touch and with a thrill of excitement Vader recognized the Force signature. He had felt it before, during the final attack on the Death Star and before that, long before, when he had felt the baby kick in its mother’s womb.

The boy was here.

But how, had he been captured and the Commander, standing in front of him, was trying to get into the Emperor’s graces by delivering the child directly to Palpatine? But no, he could feel the boy close, he was in this very hangar and there was no room for prisoners here, let alone the Emperor’s prize. Vader reached deeper into the Force, he needed to locate the boy. He was close, so close. Almost as if he stood right beside him. Vader turned his head, scanning the officers standing at attention. All of them looked like they could not wait to be dismissed before he started choking one of them. But only one radiated genuine deep-rooted fear.

Vader smiled unseen behind his mask. It seemed the boy had indeed infiltrated the base and disguised himself as an officer. The cap pulled deep in his face shadowed his features but a treacherously long lock of blonde hair was visible under it. Yet he kept himself together well despite the stress he was clearly under, it was barely noticeable that anything was amiss with this particular _Lieutenant_. Vader turned back to the commander. He needed to ensure not to give the boy a reason to jump, else he might end up doing something rash and endangering himself.

An idea sprang into his mind. The Force had led him here and provided him with the means to collect the boy, unseen, unnoticed by his Master. The boy was his and his alone. He began putting together a plan in his mind. Most importantly he had to avoid that the boy got away, but that he could easily arrange. He could practically feel the boy’s relief at the prospect of finally being dismissed, when his talk with the Commander came to an end.

“Very well, Commander,” Vader growled out, projecting as much impatience as he could. “I will use this visit to inspect this facility.” He could see the Commander’s jaw working furiously but he had no right to refuse. He gave a quick bow.

“Of course my Lord, I shall show…”

“No, Commander. That won’t be necessary,” he said with a hint of impatience. “Lieutenant?” He turned swiftly back to the boy, fixing him with his masked gaze. Luke froze up again, having slumped slightly. He floundered for a second, hoping that Vader had not addressed him specifically while around him the other officers tried to give him some room without leaving theirparade ground perfect stances, but still keen to get themselves out of the line of fire.

“M-my Lord?” the boy answered, his voice only briefly betraying his fear.

“You will accompany me, Lieutenant,” Vader turned back to the Commander who turned slightly red, his feelings warring between the indignation at being sidelined for some Lieutenant and relief at not having to take the Dark Lord’s displeasure himself. “Resume your duties, Commander.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the man gave a short bow and gave his second in command a short wave before turning and leaving. The assembled officers dispersed and before Luke could try and sneak out with them Vader turned back to him, staring him down. The boy had clearly intended just that, but aborted his half step quickly, instead returning to something that only approximately resembled a proper attention. The rebels clearly did not bother with proper military training, just like the rag-tag band of disgruntled no ones they were.

Well, this was one of the many things he would have to see rectified in his son’s education. A grim smile played around his lips. But first he had to see to boy’s convenient disappearance. Luke was visibly nervous now as he stood practically alone with Vader in the vast space.

“Follow me, Lieutenant,” Vader said briskly as not to give the boy an indication that his cover had been blown to pieces.

“Yes, my Lord,” the boy answered, his voice firmer now. Through the Force Vader could feel his determination warring with his fear, but there was also a large dose of anger directed at him. If Kenobi had the boy, there was no telling what he had told him. But from his reaction so far Vader was sure that the boy had no clue that he stood facing his father.

He turned around swiftly, his cape flicking at the boy’s ankles, and headed for the hangar exit. He remained vigilant, closely monitoring the boy through he Force to ensure the child complied and sure enough, in his foolish hopes that he could still keep his cover, his son dutifully followed him. Soon, he thought grimly, would the boy follow him willingly.

He headed straight for the supply depot of the garrison, his plan calling for a suitable way of concealing the fact that the ‘Lieutenant’ had ever left the base. Somewhere in the base the real officer must be, either dead or otherwise incapacitated. This would play very well into his plan. Sooner or later that man would be found and the hunt for the imposter would keep the garrison busy.

The boy still tailed him obediently. He probed his undefended mind, marvelling at the potential in the Force he felt, yet it was ridiculously untrained. He could feel the boy's rising uneasiness at being in such close proximity to the very man that had been tasked to capture him.

The officer in charge of the depot approached them at their entrance, but Vader waived him down quickly, he knew that he had just to follow the prompts of the Force. They led him to a door and with a swift manipulation of the Force it opened. He turned to Luke.

“Enter, Lieutenant,” he ordered shortly.

Luke looked for a moment like he would bolt, but he then clearly decided that that would be straight up suicidal and he hesitantly stepped into the room. Vader followed him. The room contained shelves upon shelves with large crates, but no one else but the two of them was inside. this suited his purpose. “Identify the content of those crates,” he ordered, pointing at some at the very far side of the room.

The boy crossed the room, seemingly glad to get some space between himself and Vader. He stepped closer to the shelves and began inspecting the data-readouts.

“Well?”

“Um, they contain power cells, my Lord,” the boy answered.

“Good, that will do,” he said. “Bring me that crate.” He pointed briskly at a rather large one.

+++

Luke stared in dismay at the crate in front of him, bigger than himself. He didn’t like this, not at all. He was alone with Vader in a small room and while he didn’t seem onto him yet, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep the Emperor’s henchman off his scent.

Well, he had gotten himself into this tight spot and all he could do was play along and hope that Vader would dismiss him once he had his power cells. He activated the repulsors and lifted the huge crate off the shelve, letting it float through the room closer to the door where Vader still stood.

He let it sink to the floor in front of the Dark Lord, hoping that this what all the man wanted from him.

“Very well, Lieutenant,” the dark voice intoned. Luke was sure he would have nightmares of this encounter. “Open it and show me its content.”

Luke clenched his teeth but crouched down, deactivating the lock to lift the lid. It opened and he placed the lid next to it.

“What is in it?”

Luke peeked into the crate. “It contains four power… mmh.” Luke’s eyes bulged in shock as a large black gloved hand clamped down on his mouth and muffled his surprised cry. How had he not noticed that Vader had snuck up from behind him? Luke grappled with his hands, desperate to pry away the Dark Lord’s fingers but Vader merely pulled him upright, his hand still clamped tightly down on his lips, preventing him to call for help he knew wouldn’t come either way and pressing him with his back against the armored bulk of the man.

The other hand reached for his head and peeled off the cap, as he was held in an unyielding headlock.

“Your little masquerade is over, Skywalker,” Vader said and his voice chilled Luke to the core. He knew. He knew. Luke doubled his efforts to break free ineffectually kicking against Vader’s legs. Another hand settled on his head brushing his blond locks from his face.

“Cease, boy,” Vader said. Luke could feel the vibrations of the voice through his body, so tightly was he pinned against the murderer of his father. “You are only making this harder for yourself.”

The hand settled on his head in a mockingly soothing manner and suddenly he could not breathe. He struggled to pull in air through his nose, but it was as if his throat was tightly closed. Panic dropped like a veil and he trashed as much as he could. To no avail. His movement became quickly sluggish and finally his hands, still pulling desperately at Vader’s unyielding grip over his mouth, fell uselessly to his sides. His limbs felt heavy like lead while he stared in horror at the dark room around him, desperately searching for a way to stop this. Shadows clouded his eyes and his vision wavered. This was it. Through the haze he could hear Vader’s voice vibrating through his body.

“Calm down, Luke” Vader said. “Cease…”

+++

The boy finally slumped in his grip and Vader immediately let his Force hold on the boy’s trachea go. He held him still for a few moments, probing with the Force, checking the boy’s life signs and his Force signature. Both resonated soundly to him. The boy was merely unconscious. Vader turned the boy around, cradling the limp form in his arm. For a moment he indulged himself in just taking in his son’s features. With one careful finger he traced the nose and the jaw line. Finally they were reunited. He would not allow the boy to be taken from him again, not by Palpatine, not by the rebels. He would protect the child from all dangers. As it always should have been.

The thought sobered Vader. He needed to hide the child, scurry him unseen to safety. Vader checked his life signs once more, both physically and through the Force. He was unconscious, but for how long. He needed to act.

He used the Force to lift all four power cells from the crate, levitating them into a nearby shelve and instead carefully placed the prone form of his son in the now empty crate. With the heavy wire he was carrying in a coil on his belt Vader tied the boy’s hands and feet to limit resistance once the boy came to. He then punctured several holes in the lid to ensure the boy would not suffocate before deliberately sealing the lid.

Vader used the Force to activate the repulsors of the crate as well as several others, striding confidently from the room. No one questioned his impoundment of several boxes of equipment and no one questioned the young blonde lieutenant’s disappearance. He had the boxes including the one containing his precious son brought aboard his shuttle and left the garrison, leaving the ground personnel glad that they had come out of his inspection unscathed.

+++


	3. Night Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm apologize if you are waiting for the next chapter of Under the Stars or Hostage, I promise I am working on them and there is lots more to come, but this silly idea jumped into my mind and demanded to be written and I just couldn't resist putting it up on here. So I hope you enjoy it.

+++

Luke stared at the empty glass in front of him. It swam slightly as he tried to get it into focus. Blast it. He must have had one too many. He looked around to locate Han. He was still busy with that Twilek girl he had managed to chat up. By the looks of it they were doing their respective best to eat each other's faces. Luke frowned for a moment at the spectacle across the table on the other side of the booth they had crammed themselves into. Neither of them were paying him any attention.

Han had insisted that they had go to a bar after finishing their delivery of proton bombs for the local rebel cell, stating they need to 'stretch their legs' at least once and insisting the local nightlife was well worth it. Well they had and while Han seemed be to enjoying himself a lot, Luke just felt like returning to the Falcon and sleeping his dizziness off. He had not had much chance to drink alcohol in his life so far and he had certainly never felt this drunk ever before. Stars, it was getting hard to even concentrate on anything.

Maybe a bit of fresh air would help to clear his mind. Luke got up staggering and made his way outside with difficulty. Han didn’t even seem to notice him leave. Luke made his way slowly through the crowded cantina, loud music was blaring from where the band was sitting. Luke meandered through the patrons clogging every bit of the bar. Finally outside the cool air hit him and Luke took a deep breath, slumped against the wall next to the entrance of the bar, his head spinning dangerously. Yes, he had definitely had one too many. Maybe two or three. He really, really wasn't used to drinking.

Outside some patrons more were laughing and chatting. But it was a relief to be out of the stuffy air inside and the loud music. One of patrons walked over to him offering him something small in his hand. Luke grabbed the glowing stick.

"Try it, it's good," the man encouraged him. Luke pulled at the stick, the biting smoke filling his lung and making him cough slightly. Was this spice or something? Luke’s brain was vaguely telling him that this was probably not a good idea, but it seemed a lot harder to make good decisions when you were drop dead wasted.

"Good, eh. Keep.... nnnh."

Luke’s focus wavered again and he closed his eyes for a moment, then struggled to focus back first on the stick still in his hand and then on the guy who had given it to him. Luke frowned confused, the man seemed to be choking on something, Luke watched him in confusion as he grasped his neck, eyes bulging and a moment later he slumped to the floor. Luke stared blankly down at him, where he was laying at his feet now.

Around him it had gone oddly silent, or maybe that was just the rush of the spice in his head, bringing a new wave of colorful dizziness. Luke brought the stick up to his mouth again to take another drag, but half way someone caught his wrist.

"That is quite enough, young one,” a deep baritone voice sounded.

Luke sluggishly stared at the black gloved hand, now pulling slightly at his forearm. Another hand came into focus, taking the spice stick from him and throwing it to the ground, where it was crushed under a heavy black boot.

"Hey..." Luke stared up indignantly. Both hands let go of him briefly only to wrap themselves around his shoulders and whoever had taken the spice stick from him was now pulling him away from the wall and where the man was still lying on the ground.

"You will  _never_  do that again."

Before Luke could properly turn around to look at the man who was now walking by his side, he was briskly being pushed down the dark and narrow street, only sparsely lighted by neon lights from other bars. Luke staggered forward, led at a rather too quick pace for his dizziness.

"H-hey, wait..." Luke blurted out. His tongue felt too big for his mouth and he was sure his voice came out slurred. "I needa go back..."

"You will not set your foot into that establishment again. Or any other, for that matter."

Luke blinked, it was hard to concentrate on keeping up with rushed tempo of whoever was pushing and to keep talking at the same time.

"B-but Han'sss back th...there. I have’t’ go back." Luke tried to dig his heels in, causing him to lose balance.

The black gloved hands did not let go of him, but the grasp on his shoulders tightened, preventing him from falling over. Once he had regained his balance he was pushed again forward. Luke was still too dazed to resist.

"Your smuggler friend seemed quite entertained without you," the voice sounded rather bemused.

Luke blinked, he didn’t want to be pushed around like this and he had to go back to Han, who would be worried sick when he found out that Luke was gone. But the more he thought about it, the more the feeling of worry and urgency left him and he gave up his halfhearted attempt to dig in his heels again. Luke staggered onwards, still firmly pushed by whoever had decided to take him away from the party. Luke tried to focus enough to tell that guy that he was not interested in going anywhere else, when a number of white blobs ahead on the road caught his attention. Luke squinted and managed to focus on them.

“N-no, sssstop,” he brought out, a renewed sense of urgency nagging at him.

The man obliged and stopped for a moment. “What is it, young one?”

“W-we can’t go down th-there,” Luke pushed out of his only half working mouth.

“And why is that?”

“There’sss St-Strom… Storm…troooperss.”

“Ah, yes, I see them. Why is that a problem?”

“Th’they’re dange…rousss…” Luke slurred urgently.

“They do not pose any danger to you, young one,” his companion stated with certainty and the pressure on his shoulders increased slightly. Luke took a few stumbling steps forward **.** Hefrowned for a moment but then grinned, reassured by the statement. They were now face to face with the impassive mask of the nearest trooper.

“You may lift the cordon, Sergeant. I have what I came for,” his companion said in his deep rumbling voice.

“Yes, my Lord,” the Stormtrooper saluted and turned around.

+++

The moment the Devastator had emerged from Hyperspace he had felt him. His son’s presence in the Force was burning unmistakingly on the planet below. The reports of the boy having been sighted were right. But when he had probed deeper, their connection had felt somewhat tainted, the boy’s focus wavering erratically and his presence somewhat muted. Increasingly muted to be accurate. It had taken Vader a long incredulous moment to realize what the cause of that must be.

Sure enough, after narrowing down the boy’s location, Vader had ordered a security cordon around the shady corner of the capital in which many less than respectable establishments were housed. It was flocked at this time of the night with patrons of the various bars and nightclubs. Vader had moved in himself to retrieve his recalcitrant son, who was clearly somewhere in the area. After a short search that sent many patrons on the street scattering in fright, he had found the exact bar the boy was nestled in, and judging by his clouded presence, he was clearly drunk.

Before he had decided the best course of action (marching in and dragging the boy out by the scruff of his neck or nudging him with the Force, to prompt him to come out and snatch him here), the boy had beaten him to the decision. He had appeared in the doorway, swaying on his feet and so obviously drunk, that Vader had to rein in the anger and humor that bubbled up at the sight of his reckless offspring. What was the child thinking? The cantina he had been in was a particularly shady one and someone as young and naïve as his son could fall prey to a near endless amount of dangers that lurked here.

Even more so, as a rebel he should know better than to drink himself into a stupor on an Imperial occupied world. All this made it blatantly obvious how much guidance the boy needed, how much protection. Vader stared for a long moment at the boy that now leaned heavily against the outside wall of the bar, talking to a stranger that had approached him almost instantly. Vader probed that man’s mind and cold anger rose in him as he read the man’s intentions towards his son. He now held out a spice stick.

Vader watched for another disbelieving moment as the boy clumsily grabbed the stick and dragged a breath through it. Vader’s fists tightened in anger, his patience truly snapped. He strode from where he had been hiding in the shadows. The Dark Side fluttered around him at his murderous rage and before the man could say any more than a few words to Luke again, Vader had reached out with the Force, closing his chokehold around the man’s throat.

The patrons that were gathered around fled the scene as quickly as they could as soon as they realized what was happening and who exactly had stepped into their midst. But Luke, his mind numbed by alcohol and now the drug working through his system, did not seem to have caught up with the situation. He stared blankly at the man, now writhing on the pavement of the alleyway, giving his final twitches. Luke stared a moment longer, not even noticing Vader’s presence standing just a few steps away. Blinking twice in confusion, the boy raised the spice stick to his mouth again, snapping Vader out of his short moment of silence.

He would not have it. He quickly strode the few steps still separating him from Luke. Once he reached the boy he took firm hold of the boy’s forearm, pulling his hand away from his mouth before he could drag another breath through the stick. The boy looked utterly confused and did not fight him, as he used his other hand to takethe blasted stick from the boy’s hand, throwing it to the ground to destroy it for good.

Only now the boy protested, but he quickly whirled him around and began pushing the boy down the street towards where his shuttle had landed. Luke stumbled along, barely aware of his surroundings. He halfheartedly suggested going back to the establishment to tell Han they were leaving. Vader tried to release some of his anger into the Force, something he hadn’t had the need to do in a very long time. But he mustn’t harm the boy, despite his fury at the boy’s blatant abuse of drugs. 

He would chastise the boy later, to ensure he would never pick up such habits again. Vader cursed the rebels for dragging his son down this path, it wasn’t enough that they filled the boy’s head with their loose approach on right and wrong and sent him out to destroy Imperial property and do other crimes. Now they also introduced him to this low life existence, dragging him though cantinas and nightclubs. It would be his duty to curb the boy’s less than desirable behavior.

But for now he needed to secure the child aboard his ship. Once he was sure the boy could not escape him, he would have a serious discussion with him. Luke stumbled heavily and Vader caught and steadied him until he had sluggishly found his balance again, then he pushed the boy further down the alley. It seemed the child was too drunk and spiced to realize who exactly had captured him, never mind even realize he had been captured in the first place. He offered no resistance. It had been easy to cloud the boy’s Force senses and to fuzz his already dazed mind to alleviate any sort of danger sense. In fact, it had been remarkably easy. He would need to discuss this with the boy, too. He was dangerously naïve and inexperienced.

Only when they reached the edge of the perimeter, where Troopers were preventing anyone from leaving, the boy seemed to slowly catch up with his situation. He was actually warning Vader to walk closer to the Troopers, but it was more than easy to coax the boy forward in his dazed state. After ordering the cordon to be lifted, he took it on himself to bring the child safely aboard the shuttle. A short order from him and the shuttle’s command crew began the preflight cycle. His aide looked visibly stunned by Vader’s appearance with the swaying boy.

He pushed his son gently in one of the seats lining the sides of the shuttle. Vader sat down beside him, busying himself to securely strap the boy in. Luke’s head lolled, the combination of alcohol and spice in his bloodstream finally taking its toll on him. Luke slumped unceremoniously to the side his head resting against the armor covering Vader’s shoulder. For a moment he was annoyed, his plan had been to pilot the shuttle himself so he tried for a moment to raise the child, but it soon became clear that Luke would not wake up anytime soon, and maybe it was for the best. Vader sighed behind his mask, staring at the blonde mop of hair and he forced himself to relax. He sat back, pulling Luke further in, until the boy’s head seemed to rest a little more naturally against him.

Vader chose to ignore his aide’s half shocked and half bemused look at the sight of the boy nearly lying in his lap, snoring rather impressively. Instead he gave some sharp orders, sending his subordinates scurrying and soon they took off from this Force-forsaken planet, headed for the Devastator still hanging in orbit.

+++

Luke woke up groaning, with a headache the size of a planet. His head felt like a whole herd of banthas was galloping through it. What had he done to justify this pain? Luke blinked but even the dim lights around him managed to bite in his eyes, inciting more pain. Luke rubbed his face trying to remember. He had been out with Han on a mission and then they had gone to a bar and…

Luke forced his eyes open, pain or not. He stared around the room he was in. It was most definitely not the Falcon, where everything was looking battered and worn. No he was in a rather small and dimly lit room, furnished with only a bunk and a bedside cabinet. No window and only one door leading out at the far side of the room. Nothing about this was familiar. Luke stared down at himself and found his blaster, lightsaber and comlink to be gone, as were his boots. Other than that he still wore the same clothing as the night before, at least he assumed it had only been one night. 

The door hissed open unexpectedly, startling Luke and he rose a bit from the bed to stare at whoever had come to see him. The sight of the bulk of Lord Vader in the small door made his hair stand on end. With a surprised yell, Luke struggled free from the blanket and tried to get up, but a sudden wash of dizziness and the exploding headache behind his forehead made him sink back to the bunk quickly.

“Y-you drugged me…,” Luke ground out accusingly, blinking rapidly to fight the stars that were clouding his vision, intent on keeping Vader in his sight. Vader stepped calmly into the room, the door hissing shut behind him.

“I did _not_ drug you,” the Dark Lord denied, his deep voice sounding even louder and more impressive in this tiny room. “You managed to put yourself in that sorry state you are in.”

Luke’s eyes darted to the door, and Vader seemed to pick up his thought.

“You are not going anywhere, child,” Vader stated with utter finality. “And you should not make the mistake to believe, that I will let your reckless behavior slip.”

“I’m not giving you anything,” Luke hissed, putting as much conviction as he could into his voice and narrowing his eyes on Vader, who merely raised his finger at him ominously.

“You can cut out your little show of defiance. I promise you will not find sympathetic ears with me. What were you thinking, gallivanting off in such an establishment with your smuggler friend?”

Luke blinked at the unexpected sentence, flustering at the accusing tone, but Vader was still in full swing.

“You have endangered yourself recklessly. Consider yourself lucky I was the one that found you first. That _friend_ of yours, that gave you the spice stick had less than pure motives to intoxicate you even further. I will ensure that you will never pick up one again.”

Spice? Luke vaguely remembered holding a spice stick, now that he thought about it.

“Why do you even care,” Luke shot back, trying to cover how unsettled he felt about Vader’s unexpected reaction. This was not how he had imagined his meeting with the Dark Lord to go, after he had hunted him for months. How in the galaxy had he ended up on the defence, trying to explain his admittedly less than mature behavior of the night before?

“You alone decided to drink yourself into a senseless stupor. Clearly your immaturity knows no limit.” Vader continued, his tone dangerously low. “You could have been _killed_.”

“What do you want from me?” Luke hissed back in an attempt to cover his growing unease at the berating tone. 

Vader was silent for a short moment, letting his finger drop to his side and straightening slightly. He stared at him with unnerving intensity. “Surely you are dehydrated. A common side effect of your indulgence in alcohol,” he remarked scathingly, holding out a water bottle and offering it to Luke. Luke thought about refusing it, but he _was_ thirsty as hell, so he bent forward slightly to accept it.

“I would also presume you have a rather pronounced headache, young one.”

Luke scowled.

“I am inclined to let you suffer through your self-inflicted pain as a valuable lesson,” Vader stated. “However I have no wish to cause you unnecessary harm. I will give you a painkiller if you swear that you will not indulge in such mindless drinking ever again.” Vader held out two pills in his gloved hand, showing them to Luke.

Luke stared at Vader’s towering form, then at the pills. He sounded an awful lot like Uncle Owen had, the one time when he had caught Biggs and him drinking a beer behind the main house. He had never attempted that again. Stubborn silence hung between them for a moment.

“Well,” Vader demanded after a while and Luke grudgingly caved in.

“I… I promise,” he said quietly, the words tasting sour on his lips.

Vader seemed nevertheless satisfied as he held out the pills for Luke to take them. He did and swallowed them down with a sip from the water bottle, cautiously watching Vader from the corner of his eyes.

Vader straightened once more abruptly, making Luke tense. “Very well, I will leave you to sleep it off, but do not think I am done with you yet. From now on I will put an end to your continual reckless behavior and your numerous infractions of Imperial law,” he said, the finger back, pointing at Luke. “We will revisit this topic at length.”

Vader stared at him for a short moment longer, then he turned and left without another word, the door hissing shut behind him with awful finality.

Luke slumped on the bunk rubbing his face and groaning audibly. But, despite his uneasiness at his situation, when he turned around to catch some more much needed rest, he couldn't deny he was cherishing the feeling of the painkiller gradually kicking in. Nor could he help wondering why Vader would have cared in the first place.

+++


	4. The Holiday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a silly little piece and I blame maedre13 for it, as she demanded that I write it, when I told her some of the cracky ideas in my head and we span the story a little. It’s more humor than what I have written so far, but I hope it will entertain you nonetheless. It was sure a fun thing to write and hopefully helped me get around my writers block, that has been paralyzing me in the past weeks. The story is also not strictly Luke & Vader centered, but focuses on Admiral Piett quite heavily (but it’s probably not a secret that I like that character quite a lot), Vader and Luke play roles though.
> 
> Well this this the story of Piett’s holiday being ruined by the rebels, namely by Luke Skywalker.

+++

Admiral Firmus Piett was plucking his shirt. He couldn’t remember when he had last worn a piece of clothing that felt so foreign and uncomfortable to him.

It had been so long since his last shore leave (not counting formal military events, he was made to attend every once in a while), that he had found his civilian clothes no longer in any shape to wear them. His halfhearted suggestion of taking a pilot off duty jumpsuit had been quickly stomped down by General Veers, naming reasons covering everything from security to the relaxation character of his journey. It had ended up with the General offering him the, in Piett’s private opinion, most hideous shirt and pants combination he had seen in his life.

The colorful flowers on the shirt made his eyes feel sore just from staring at them and despite the General’s insistence that they were holiday appropriate, Piett could simply not share the sentiment.

The crew of the shuttle tasked to take him to the nearest space port had not commented on his look but Piett had seen their lips twitch treacherously. He was sure that only his stern look that he had preventively bestowed upon them had stopped them bursting into giggles. Just what he needed, he thought glumly as he watched the Executor turn smaller and smaller through the shuttle’s viewports. He had left the ship for less than five minutes and his reputation had already taken some irreparable damage.

The shuttle crew let him off at the space port, saluting as per regulations and wisely without wishing him a nice holiday, probably picking up on his mood. When Piett boarded the small cruiser, that was supposed to take him to a resort world known for its pristine beaches and excellent entertainment, Piett asked himself for the umpteenth time how in the stars name he deserved such a fate.

He supposed it was really his own fault. All beginning when he had had the apparently impudent idea to see the Executor’s Chief Medical Officer to ask for something to ease him to sleep at night. Like a Corellian Slice Hound the CMO had picked up the scent of his small sign of weariness and exhaustion and had not stopped to hound him ever since, insisting that Piett needed a holiday. Something Piett was sure he definitely did _not_ need.

It had taken a turn to the worse, when the CMO had gotten his hands on Piett’s past record of shore leaves - the last one some good five years back and attending his distant relative’s wedding had been no holiday, that much was sure. Piett was quite sure it was against regulations that the CMO was digging around in other officers’ personal files and if it wasn’t already he would make sure it was from now on, at least under his command.

In a particular low blow in Piett’s opinion, the CMO had resorted to enlist the help of several other senior officers of the Executor’s staff, who had taken up the task with terrifying joy and resolve. Since then Piett found himself unable to eat in peace in the officer’s mess or even walk down a hallway without at least one of them bothering him with politely phrased encouragements to acquiesce to the CMO’s urges to finally take at least a week of holiday.

It had gone on for weeks until Piett’s own resolve had finally crumbled. Not that he hadn’t tried, no. He had brought forward every argument he could think of, from the amount of workload piling up after his holiday, making taking it in the first place not worthwhile, to his sense of duty, demanding him not to use up his entitled leave days, until he even had resorted to playing his trump card to Captain Venka, asking if he felt comfortable handling Lord Vader on his own, to which the Captain merely stony faced replied that he believed a single week could not possibly go that far south as to have a great impact on the bridge crew’s composition.

Piett sighed, staring through the viewports of the cruiser into the blue swirl of Hyperspace. He wasn’t so sure about that himself. Last night he had even dreamed of returning to the Executor, finding the ship filled to the brim with strangled crewmen and officers. No, he shook his head decidedly. Best not to think of it and Venka and the bridge crew were well trained and should know better than to get on Lord Vader’s toes.

Not even Lord Vader, his last hope of getting away with just not taking the holiday, had backed him up. Not that he had overly involved him in his struggle to merely be allowed to do his job in relative peace, but he had been hoping with all his heart, that Vader would simply not sign off on his leave application. To Piett’s dismay however, the signed document had appeared in his inbox a surprisingly short time after submitting it and Lord Vader had chosen to not even so much as comment on it.

So Piett had finally run out of excuses and options and had grudgingly booked a week of holiday through the Navy’s Leisure and Family Affairs department. Only one week, he repeated to himself like a mantra. Nothing bad could possibly happen during one week.

+++

Piett had checked into the beach side hotel he had been booked into, wishing himself back to the Executor when he walked through the nauseously colorful lobby and hallways, already heavily missing the sleek and clear outlines of the Star Destroyer. But when he arrived in his room, he had to admit, that it was beautiful. From his balcony he stared out at the deep purple sea, a certain algae responsible for that unusual tint to the water this world was so famous for, reaching as far as he could see. Below  his balcony he could watch a variety of species sunbathing on the white sand, littered with colorful umbrellas and in the waves were swimmers and others pursuing a surprising array of different water sports.

Despite himself Piett’s mood lightened, that was until he decided to check in with Captain Venka to see how things were going in the past couple of hours of his absence and he had discovered that the sneaky Captain had chosen to have Piett’s comlink disabled so that he was no longer able to access the Navy’s communications system.

His worry somewhat increased, but unable to do anything to alleviate it, Piett decided to take a walk. Maybe he could get himself into something more of a holiday mood and expel the dark thoughts about what could be going wrong at this very moment from his brain. Walking down the shore side promenade in the bright sun for a while, Piett picked a small bar, offering a stunning view on both the sea and the busy promenade. It also happened to be seemingly the only one that was not filled to the top with flowery decoration, but sported a somewhat more subdued interior.

Sitting down he ordered a cocktail, that to his dismay arrived in a carved out fruit and decorated with an selection of tiny umbrellas, but once he had gotten rid of all the excess of decoration, it was almost adequate. Piett leaned back in his seat, watching the passersby on the promenade going about their holidays and despite his worry, he found that he could relax a bit.

Maybe the CMO and the others really did had a point and some holiday and relaxation was exactly what he needed. Halfway through his cocktail, Piett had a look at the other patrons of the small bar he had chosen. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, well maybe all except one. A young dark haired man, judging by his looks he could probably be Corellian, sat just two tables away from him, his drink untouched and the longer he watched, the more Piett thought that something about the man was off. He stared at his chrono quite often and seemed to have no eye for the beautiful sea view or for the hustle and bustle of the other holiday makers.

Piett shook his head, he was supposed to be on holiday and should relax himself. He turned his attention back to his drink and picked up a datapad on which he had loaded some books. Maybe for the first time in years he would actually have time to read something other than battle reports, strategic analyses or requisition forms.

Some ten minutes later however, the scraping of a chair on the ground made him look up again from his pad. The young man had gotten up, quite rashly so, and taking a look around in the bar, he made his quick way to the exit. Piett followed him with his eyes. Outside the bar the man bumped briefly into another guy, a young blonde one. For a moment he thought he had seen the dark haired patron reached for the other man’s pocket, but it was hard to see.

A moment later the blonde man entered the bar and, looking around only briefly, sat down at the exact same table the other had just vacated. A deep frown was now edged on Piett’s face, but he quickly lowered his gaze down to his datapad when the blonde man, more a boy really, looked around the bar himself. After a moment Piett dared to look back up, seeing the boy fiddle with a small satchel and Piett was sure that he had not had it with him, when he had entered. It all looked highly suspicious, like the two had been exchanging something in secret.

Piett stared at him, seeing his features was difficult in the dim light of the bar compared to the bright sunlight outside, so it took him a moment until realization hit him with the impact of a vessel in hyperdrive. It was Skywalker. Piett took a deep breath, staring over at the boy. He tried to reason with his brain, there was no way Skywalker would just pop into a random bar on a resort world. Maybe it was just his overworked mind playing tricks on him, after he had been so rudely snatched away from his daily missions, so many of which had centered around that very rebel, that he now started seeing him even here. But even though he could only see the boy’s profile now, the longer he looked, the more he was sure of it. He had sat through too many intelligence meetings, that had sported the boy’s face at the top of the agenda, to not be sure.

All of that suspicious behavior of Skywalker and the dark haired man, there must be something to it. Whatever was going on, the rebels were clearly planning something and Piett was sitting right in the middle of their operation. With one hand Piett reached into his pocket to grasp his comlink and he automatically keyed in the priority frequency to Lord Vader. It wasn’t until he was finished and ready to activate his comlink, when he remembered that he could not reach Lord Vader or really anyone that could possible help him now, to finally capture the elusive rebel.

Frustrated Piett stared back into Skywalker’s direction, what was he supposed to do? While he was still contemplating his chances of secretly contacting local law enforcement, Skywalker got up. His heart beat faster, he couldn’t let the rebel get out of here, outside on the packed promenade he would easily loose him. Skywalker was already halfway to the door, he needed to act quickly. Without thinking too much about it, Piett got up too and took the short distance at a run. Skywalker turned at the noise, but he was too late to avoid him when he lunged himself at the boy in full force.

+++

“This is all your fault,” Piett hissed, staring in disbelieve at his handcuffs, before looking up at the boy, to throw an angry stare at him.

“Is it?” Skywalker shot back, his blue eyes flashing at him. “It’s not like _I_ jumped at _you_!!”

“You and your rebel ‘friend’ were planning something. I had to stop you from carrying out your plans,” Piett fired up. “Besides, you punched me.”

“Well, you punched me in the first place, what was I about to do,” the boy got half up, an angry red flush on his cheeks and Piett followed suit, his bound hands clenched into tight fists ready to lunge himself once more at the rebel, but a loud bang on the door made them both freeze.

“Silence in there, or I’ll stun you both,” the annoyed voice of a Trooper sounded, slightly muffled through the thick metal.

Piett’s mouth opened to fire some sharp commands back, but then he remembered his current predicament and so he clapped his mouth shut again instead returning to glare at Skywalker.

Both of them stared at each other for another long moment, measuring each other up, but then they sat back down on the two metal benches lining the sides of the small holding cell they had been unceremoniously shoved into.

After he had lunged himself at Skywalker to keep him from leaving the bar, things had gone pretty quickly sour. Of course the boy had been kicking and punching to break free, Piett’s jaw still hurt, but he had gotten the boy too, as Skywalker’s split lip proved. Not knowing his intentions, the bartender however had thought Piett had just randomly attacked the boy and quickly called in some Troopers on patrol to separate them both.

No matter how much he insisted, that he was an Imperial admiral and Skywalker a rebel that needed to be arrested, he had been unable to prevent to be taken into custody alongside the boy, as of course they had not believed a single word he had been saying. All thanks to this ridiculous getup General Veers had forced him into wearing, thanks to Captain Venka disabling his comlink and of course thanks to the bloody boy, that had the audacity to claim that Piett had attacked him after he refused to buy spice sticks from him.

Despite his protests, the Troopers had slapped handcuffs on both of them and scurried them off in their transport to the nearest outpost of the local law enforcement, where they had been dismissively chucked into a cell. He had tried to reason with the commander, giving his name, rank and service number, much to the chagrin of the boy, who only now seemed to be able to connect his face to who he was. Unfortunately the commander had not been overly interested in his story and had downright snorted when Piett had urged him to call Lord Vader, insisting that the boy was a wanted criminal and rebel.

To a certain extent Piett could understand him, Skywalker didn’t look like he warranted Lord Vader’s attention, or anyone’s attention for that matter, but he was still fuming over the unprofessional behavior of the Imperials in this sleepy outpost, whose day to day job was probably to look for pick pockets and scammers trying to prey on gullible holiday makers.

The boy had grinned at Piett's futile efforts to convince the commander, though his smugness had quickly vanished when they had both been pushed into the same cell.

“What are you even doing here? Shouldn’t you be running Vader’s fleet?” the boy asked with raised eyebrows, interrupting Piett’s thoughts.

“Rather, what are _you_ and your rebel friends planning here,” Piett shot back. “Who is that dark haired guy you exchanged something with.”

For a moment anger and fear hushed over the boy’s face, but he collected himself quickly, a bold smile playing around his lips. “I asked first.”

“Holiday,” Piett bit out in anger. His mood took an unexpected dive to even greater depths at Skywalker’s half incredulous, half amused snicker.

“Holiday? Didn’t know, you Imps even did that.”

“We do, now tell me what the rebellion is doing here.”

The boy grinned even more. “Like I’d tell you just like that.”

Piett glared, though he had not really expected Skywalker to tell him anything. It was a shame. Due to the less than inconspicuous arrest of them, the remaining rebels would sure go underground, they definitely had more than enough time.

“I’m sure you won’t be that bold anymore once Lord Vader is here,” Piett shot back angrily.

„It’s not like they believed you a single word,“ the boy huffed disparagingly, but Piett could hear in his voice that Skywalker did not truly believe that himself. It was only a matter of time. Skywalker stared around the cell, measuring the door and the small window, looking for a way out, but Piett would, bound or not, hinder the boy from escaping this time.

+++

Piett wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it was dark outside, only the light of some street lamps illuminating the tiny cell. Skywalker still sat hunched on the bench, arms hugged around his legs and his head resting on his knees. He was half asleep, but still wary. Every time Piett shifted the boy would stir, sleepy eyes following his every move.

He himself felt like sleeping, but he shared the boy’s sentiment of not wanting to sleep in his company wholeheartedly. Thoughtfully he picked at the stupid flowery shirt he was still wearing, wishing nothing more than that he had never left for this hell of a holiday. The only silver lining was that sooner or later even the abysmally stupid commander of this base would check out Piett’s service number and then, hopefully, would contact his superior who could bail him out.

Piett shuddered at the thought what Lord Vader would have to say to this. If only he could keep Skywalker in check, that could actually appease Vader enough to not summarily strangle Piett for this whole mess. He let out a deep sigh.

“What’s he like?” the boy asked with a small, tired voice. Piett stared up in surprise. “Vader, I mean.” Skywalker added, as if it had been an afterthought. He had lifted his head and was watching Piett’s musings and for a moment he thought the boy had somehow known, what he had just been thinking about.

“Why would you want to know? Your rebel propaganda already knows everything, doesn't it?” he shot back indignantly, unwilling to discuss Lord Vader with a rebel. Let alone Skywalker, of all.

The boy sighed. “It’s propaganda, as you said. I’d rather hear it from you, before I meet him.”

Piett frowned at the unexpected answer. “You already met him on Bespin, I understand.”

Skywalker looked him in the eyes, his own blue ones full of an emotion that Piett couldn’t quite place, was it sadness or longing. “Yeah, we met. We… didn’t part on good terms though…” he replied, his right hand clenching and unclenching subconsciously. Piett’s eyes trailed to the black glove that was covering it. His wrist was covered by the heavy binders, but he could imagine what had happened. Piett clenched his fists at the sudden and unbidden surge of guilt, seeping into his stomach. Skywalker was a dangerous rebel, he had destroyed the Death Star and cost countless Imperial lifes, some of which Piett had had personally known.

He still remembered the shocked silence on the bridge of the Accuser when the news of the destruction of the battle station had filtered through. Still, it was easier to project his hatred on a first nameless rebel and then later on a phantom he had been hunting, than on the small, painfully young boy sitting opposite of him. The boy stared at him with pleading eyes, as if some snippet of information could save him from Vader’s wrath.

Piett took a breath unsure what to say. “He is relentless and conscientious when it comes to fulfilling his duty and he demands nothing but the highest performance from those under his command,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But he would not expect anything, that he would not do himself and he receives great respect for that.”

Skywalker stared at him, still with that unreadable expression in his eyes, hanging on his every word. When Piett had finished the boy nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For sharing that with me.”

Piett looked at Skywalker wondering at how honest the boy’s reply had sounded, in the dim light he looked even younger than he had before. He opened his mouth to say something more, to ask the boy all those questions someone in his position had rarely the opportunity to ask, had no business to ask really. About why the boy had chosen to throw his life away, when he had picked up the mantle of the rebellion, fighting for chaos and destruction instead of something good. If he really believed, that this conflict achieved anything but the loss of life. If he had ever felt even a twinge of regret at all the death he had caused.

But before he had even half formulated his first question, heavy steps outside on the hallway made him close his mouth again. Both of them were staring to the door as the unmistakable noise of a code being keyed into the keypad was audible and a moment later the door swished to the side, the sudden light falling into the dark cell blinding them both.

But the light was quickly blocked out by the huge form of Lord Vader, stepping into the open door. The sound of his breathing was echoing ominously in the small cell. For a moment Piett merely stared stunned, but then he got up quickly to his feet, trying to banish thoughts at how ridiculous he was still looking in his holiday outfit.

“My Lord,” he brought out, his voice thankfully steady and he offered a small military bow, but Vader seemed momentarily completely uninterested in his Admiral, that he just had the displeasure of picking up from the local law enforcement like a wayward offspring. His masked stare was solely fixed on Skywalker. Piett should have expected it. His misadventures of course blanched when it came to Vader having Skywalker finally in his grasp. Especially after he had been ruthlessly hunting this particular rebel for months and months, even more fiercely ever since the events on Bespin.

A small rustle of clothing from the boy’s direction made Piett half turn to Skywalker, who was getting to his feet slowly, his jaw firmly set. He took a few small steps closer to Vader, until he was less than one arm’s length away from him, showing more bravery than some Imperial officers Piett had seen, when they were faced with the imminent displeasure of the Dark Lord.

“Well, I guess you have me now,” the boy said, staring down for a long moment before lifting his head to look directly up at Vader, his blue eyes burning brightly. “Father.”

Piett’s mouth dropped open and he was sure that he must have misheard, but then Vader reached out, placing his hand on Skywalker’s shoulder in a strangely possessive and still gentle gesture. “Son,” his deep voice sounded through the small cell, before he half turned and led the boy from the room, Skywalker falling into step beside him without hesitation.

Piett was left floundering for long moments, until he managed to unbolt his feet from the floor and he hastened after them, barely able to wait the moment for the guards to finally release his hands from the binders, and not listening to their hasty and awkward excuses at their harsh treatment of him, his eyes instead fixed at Lord Vader and the boy walking beside him down the long hallway.

+++


	5. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: After the last two chapters that were more on the fun side, this one is more serious. I hope you won't mind the occasional change of pace, this collection is very much my playground for all the small ideas that pop into my brain and that won’t be turned into anything longer.

+++

It was late into the pilots’ sleep cycle, but Luke was still staring at the small unmarked datapad in his hands. He sat crosslegged on the top bunk he usually occupied, Wedge snoring away in the lower, after he had given up his complaints for Luke to finally drop his task and go to sleep.

But Luke couldn’t, he needed to find out, what was behind this. He and Wedge had returned from their latest patrol flight, ready to crash on their bunks to catch some much needed sleep before the next tough day’s duty, when Luke had found a small black datapad sitting innocently on his pillow. He had no idea how it had gotten there, nor had he yet an idea what it contained. It was encrypted and no matter how much Luke concentrated or which codes he tried, he hadn’t been able to make any sense of the garbled Aurebesh letters.

He was close to giving up and maybe handing it to some of the Alliance’s code breakers. True their job was to try and break Imperial encryptions, but maybe they would have some spare time to look into this, too. No, Luke shook his head to chase away that thought. He had no idea where this datapad had come from and who had send it, so the content _could_ be embarrassing should someone else read it. And there was also a decent chance one of the Rogue’s was simply pulling his leg with this one.

Still an idea crept into Luke’s mind. Well of he couldn’t ask any of them to help him, he knew someone who wouldn’t mind at all. His mind made up, Luke clambered as silently as he could from his bunk, as not to wake Wedge. His bare feet touched to cool deck plates, but Luke didn’t care, he was pretty sure his latest idea would yield some results, stupid of him not to think earlier of this.

He tiptoed silently into the corner of the small room where Artoo stood, powered down for the night. Luke placed a hand on the dome. “Artoo? Buddy, I need your help.”

It took a moment and with a small indignant beep Artoo powered up, turning his dome to fix his lens on Luke. Luke smiled. “I need your help to decode this data, I just can’t make sense of it myself. Do you think you can do it?” Luke asked and Artoo beeped affirmatively. Luke grinned. “You’re a great pal, you know that?” He moved to plug in the datapad. For a while Artoo busied himself with trying to find the right encryption method to get a coherent text message out of the seemingly random array of letters.

After a few minutes Artoo turned to fix him again, sounding smug and berating for waking him up for a seemingly so easy task and he powered down again. Luke sighed. Well, if Artoo would still be miffed in the morning he could always try and make it up to him. Maybe changing his oil or taking him for a small joyride. Luke reached out, detaching the datapad, to finally read it. It just contained a short message of two lines followed by some numbers, Luke began to read.

Just a moment later the datapad fell from Luke’s now badly shaking hand, landing with a clatter on the floor tiles.

 “Luke, go the kriff to bed,” Wedge groaned from the other side of the room annoyed into his pillow, but Luke couldn’t bring himself even to answer. All blood had drained from his face and it felt like his stomach had been replaced with a bucket full of ice. With trembling hands Luke reached for the datapad again, turning it silently around to re-read the short message, hoping with all his might that he had somehow misread it the first time, but the text had of course remained the same.

_Anakin Skywalker is alive and under my control. I am willing to exchange him alive and unharmed for you surrender. Come alone to the following coordinates._

The short text was followed by a small symbol, one he knew Darth Vader used.

+++

Luke was pacing up and down the corridor outside the medbay, debating with himself if he should follow through with his plan or not.

He hadn’t slept a single minute last night, completely unable to, as his mind ran in circles, mulling over the short message over and over. His father alive, it sounded unreal, he could not be alive. But whoever had sent the message certainly claimed so and in addition wanted to force Luke to exchange his own for his father’s life.

The message had been signed only with Vader’s sign and nothing else made sense, he was after all the one that had been ruthlessly hunting him ever since the Empire had linked his name to the destruction of the Death Star. But he couldn’t have sent the message, how would he have had a datapad with this farfetched claim positioned on Luke’s bunk. No, this had to be a cruel stupid joke, someone was playing on him.

When morning came, Luke had made up his mind to banish the thought from his brain, that his father could be alive, rotting in some Imperial prison until his son would come to rescue him. No. He was long dead and Luke would do well to ignore this complete and utter bantha shit.

He had gone about his business during the day, getting scolding looks from Wedge whenever he had failed to suppress to show his tiredness, but Wedge had not commented on it. By evening Luke had almost completely succeeded in forgetting the datapad and he had been stone dead tired, ready to finally get a good night’s rest. But when he had entered his room, his eyes had been inadvertently drawn to his pillow and to his horror he saw a new datapad sitting on his pillow. And right next to it a small transparent vial, filled with a dark red liquid, that made Luke’s hair stand on edge.

Wedge was still out, for which Luke was grateful, when he plugged the new datapad into Artoo, asking the droid to decipher it for him. It read the same message and underneath the same time the first one had stated, some ten hours later and detailed rendezvous coordinates and it was signed again with the same symbol. Luke had checked the databases and it was indeed the one used by Vader and sometime his 501st legion.

Luke had stared dumbstruck at the datapad then at the small vial. He had opened it and sniffed at it tentatively, confirming his worst fear. It contained blood.

Which had led him to pace in front of the medbay, debating with himself, if he should have the sample analyzed or if he should throw it away. But how could he. Whoever had sent the messages and the blood seemed serious about it, and while Luke refused to believe it, it was not unreasonable the Empire would have spies aboard Home One.

Luke shuddered at the thought, but it had helped sobering him. He straightened up, facing the door, his decision made. He pushed the release to open the door and stepped into the quiet sterile atmosphere of the medbay. It was largely empty, some patients likely slumbering behind curtains, but no medic was on duty, which Luke had been counting on. Instead he stepped into the small office where a 2-1B unit was watching over various monitors.

“Um, could you perform a blood test for me,” Luke asked hesitantly. The droid perked up instantly though, making Luke’s fears his request would be refused vanish.

“Certainly, young Master,” it replied dutifully. “What kind of analysis do you require?”

“Ah, um… a genetic analysis would be great,” Luke said holding out his clammy hand clutched around the blood sample. The droid accepted it, examining it under the light. “Between this sample and a sample of my own blood.”

The droid did not comment on the request, but confirmed and got to work, unscrewing the lid of the vial and putting a small amount of it into an analyzing unit and for once Luke was happy that whoever had programmed the droid, had put very little personality in it. Then the droid turned to him and Luke obediently rolled up his sleeve for the droid to take a sample of Luke’s own blood to compare them.

Luke watched transfixed while the droid ran the program. It took a few minutes until the droid plugged a datapad into the analyzing unit, then held it outto Luke. “Well, young Master. With 99% certainty a paternal relationship exists between the two samples.”

Luke fumbled with trembling fingers for a moment to get a proper hold on the datapad, reading the same message the droid had just said out loud. He felt like the floor had been pulled from under his feet. It couldn’t be. It took him long minutes to calm himself again, to think rationally over the buzz in his head. Maybe there was a simple and logical explanation for it. 

Maybe Vader had found out about Luke’s parentage and for some reason had known to apply pressure to one of Luke’s weakest spots. But that did not necessarily mean that his father was alive and in Imperial custody. Maybe Vader had simply gotten his hands on an old sample that had been stored for years in some database. Somehow Luke doubted this, it was as if he could feel the truth with his heart, but his brain refused to believe it.

“Um, could you… is there a way to find out, if this sample has been stored for, let’s say a few years or more?”

The droid, having given him some space while he had been fighting for his composure, rolled closer again. “That is possible, young Master,” it confirmed with its monotonous voice. Once again it busied itself with the small vial filled with blood, his _father’s_ blood, carefully placing a few drops drops on various test stripes. Again they had to wait in awkward silence for a few minutes for the result, Luke hoping with all his heart that it was indeed a stored sample.

But then the droid turned to him, destroying all remaining hope of there being any other explanation than that his father truly was at Lord Vader’s mercy. “The sample you have provided is a fresh one, it has not been frozen or otherwise preserved.

+++ 

Luke eased himself silently into the cockpit of his X-Wing. No one was in the hangar, but as soon as he started the engine he would have to be quick, for surely someone would find out he was up to something.

Luke had debated with himself, if he should report what had happened, but he had decided against it. High Command would have never let him leave to actually hand himself over, let alone taking his X-Wing and the time stated in the datapads was coming to a close. So Luke had left a short message for Leia and Han with Artoo, saying goodbye and briefly explaining what had happened and what he was about to do and he had set off for the hangar.

In his chest pocket the vial, filled with his father’s blood, was safely tucked away, close for him to reach for it whenever nerves threatened to overcome him. His father was alive, he had to rescue him. He just _had_ to.

+++

A single X-Wing came into view, long after the engine noise had first announced its arrival. It set down in the small valley of the barren wasteland of a moon he had chosen as a rendezvous, far away for any inhabited system. Long shadows were announcing the quickly approaching end of the day. He could strongly feel his son’s presence coming closer and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, unseen behind the mask, as Lord Vader could not longer deny himself the feeling of accomplishment.

He had been unsure if his lure would be enough draw the boy out, but it seemed that his worries had been unfounded. Even half an hour before the stated time the snub fighter’s landing gear touched the ground, stirring up dust. He reached out with the Force and could feel Luke’s determination overshadowing even his fear. Yet he hadn't had the boy securely in his grasp yet, he needed to be very careful and thorough to ensure he would not escape him this time.

Vader waited in the darkened compartment of the Lambda class shuttle he had arrived in, unseen by the boy, but he was sure Luke would be able to feel his presence. He watched as the boy pried open the hatch of his cockpit and climbed out. 

The moment his feet had touched the ground, the boy started scanning his surroundings, looking at the shuttle, sitting just a short distance away, with great suspicion. After a short moment of hesitation he approached the shuttle tentatively, his hand never far from his blaster, eying the open boarding ramp with a mixture of fear and longing. Vader decided it would be best to end this stressful suspense. He needed to bring Luke under his control fast, before the boy did something rash, so he calmly stepped forward into the light. Luke stopped dead the moment he spotted him.

“Where is he?” he demanded without preamble, his voice firm despite his obvious fright. “What have you done to my father.”

“He is here, Skywalker,” Vader replied, gesturing vaguely behind himself into the darkened main compartment of the shuttle. “Lay down your weapons and step closer, then he will be released.”

His son hesitated once more, but only briefly, his hand brushing against his chest pocket. His jaw set defiantly when he reached for his weapons belt, from which his blaster and lightsaber were dangling and slowly undid the buckle. He let the belt fall into the grass at his feet, all the while never letting his eyes off Vader. 

Vader gestured for the boy to step closer, which he cautiously did. At the foot of the ramp he tried to peek into the compartment, scanning the sides, clearly trying to locate his father. At the same time Vader could feel the boy tentatively reach out with the Force. His hold on it was flimsy, but he tried to scan the surroundings for other sentient beings and their lifesigns. This could spoil the boy’s capture, he was still too far away to get a hold of him and the boy could easily rush back to where his lightsaber was lying in the grass. This was something he needed to avoid at all costs, it would prove even more difficult to convince the boy of his peaceful intentions, once they met with ignited blades between them.

Vader reached out with the Force himself, intending to fuzz the boy’s senses. “You will surrender yourself, Skywalker,” he said at the same time sternly, in an effort to distract him further. It seemed to work. The boy took a deep breath, steeling himself visibly, before he walked up the ramp into the shuttle. 

At the top of the ramp he once more scanned the compartment, but of course no one but Vader was here. He could see the desperation and sudden anger in the boy’s face, when he realised that he had been tricked. “Liar,” he hissed and Vader readied himself to hinder the boy’s retreat. 

Yet instead of trying to make it back to his weapons, or worse to his X-Wing, Luke dashed forward with an angry yell, reaching with his right hand to grasp for Vader’s own lightsaber, where it was clipped to his belt. Taken completely by surprise by this unexpected move, Vader did not react quickly enough before Luke’s fingers had wrapped around the hilt, succeeding in unhooking it. 

A split second later the blood red blade ignited. But Vader had found his own pace again fast, he twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the blade aimed for his middle and it merely caught his armor and then his cape, burning the fabric with a sickening sizzling noise. Vader grasped for Luke’s wrist, capturing it in a steel grip, the boy too slow to pull his hand back in time and he quickly twisted the blade to the side in a harmless angle. It burned into the seats lining the side of the shuttle, sending sparks flying around and lighting eerily the darkened passenger hold.

Vader pulled on the captured wrist, while quickly turning around and Luke, still half in his move forward, lost his balance, falling over with a startled gasp. The boy tried to turn away desperately, but Vader was faster. The moment his son landed belly first on the durasteel floor he was already on top of him, one knee buried into the boy’s spine to keep him pinned with his bodyweight. His right hand was still wrapped around the boy’s right wrist that clung to the ignited blade. He increased his pressure on the wrist and Luke gasped in pain, unable to retain his grip on the hilt. With his left hand Vader reached over to pry the boy’s fingers loose, taking back the lightsaber and disengaging the blade. He threw the hilt backwards into the compartment, well out of reach for the boy, where it landed with a clatter.

The boy’s sides were heaving heavily as he was gulping down air, breathless after the brief struggle. He attempted to dislodge Vader once, his legs kicking out uselessly and his free arm flailing, but he had the boy well secured. With a slight increase of the pressure on the boy’s back he had him slump again, realization dawning on Luke, that he had been bested.

“Calm down, young one,” Vader intoned, reaching with his hand to soothingly pat the boy’s head. 

His son’s breathing hitched, when he found himself beaten and disarmed, with no more free moves available. He stared ahead out through the open landing hatch. Outside the sun had now set and darkness was approaching fast, the outline of the boy’s X-Wing only dimly visible in the twilight. His final option to escape, yet utterly out of reach for him. The boy lowered his head in defeat.

“P-please let my father go,” he pleaded, his voice quiet and ladened with pain and hopelessness, the boy realizing he had no more leverage to barter himself against his father’s life.“You have what you wanted.”

Vader was silent for a short moment, letting his hand rake through the boy’s blonde hair in a futile attempt to calm his son down. Even now Luke’s thoughts were firmly fixed on his father, the man he had never met and whom he had firmly believed dead until a couple of days ago. Even now all the boy wanted was to save his sire, convinced he was a prisoner of Vader’s, used as a token in a cruel scheme to capture the boy. Just like he had intended to, to draw the child out to him, while avoiding any interference from both the rebels and other Imperials. 

“I do, little one,” Vader agreed in an attempt to soothe the boy’s frayed nerves. “No harm will come to him, or to you,” he promised.

He reached out with the Force to gauge the boy’s feelings. He was far from placated, but he fell marginally calmer. Yet nothing but the truth would do to truly alleviate his son’s terror and fear, he decided.

“I did not lie to you, Luke. Your father _is_ here.”

The boy twisted slightly underneath him, the words causing him more distress, but it could not be helped. He could feel the boy reach out once more with his wavering Force probe to try and find a familiar presence in the Force. That was what Vader had been counting on. Before Luke could once more reaffirm that he was alone with his captor, Vader too reached out to the boy through the Force.

Luke froze when he did, fearful at what he suspected to be a new attack on him, but also wondering with half his mind at the familiarity he could feel. Vader reached further, deeper, picking up and  strengthening the bond that had existed between them from the moment he had felt the baby kick in its mother’s womb and that he had believed severed for so many years. He tied them together, sharing his own thoughts and feelings with the boy before speaking once more, letting the Force guide his words.

“I _am_ your father.”

+++


	6. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader feels like it is his parental duty to discuss an important topic with Luke, one sure to make Luke very uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very short and very silly piece, please don’t be too harsh. I haven't posted anything for this collection of one-shots in a while. A big 'thank you' to Azalea Scroggs, chatting with you about it gave me the energy to finish it.

+++

Luke stared at the bare metal surface of the table in front of him, doing his best to ignore the increasingly enraged Imperial sitting across him in the small, bare interrogation room. He had lost all sense of time, but it must have been hours since he was pushed in here and even longer since he had to eject from his failing spacecraft above Brentaal.

A loud bang made him flinch. His interrogator was losing his patience and the nagging worry in Luke’s stomach intensified. He was sure that Vader must have felt his attempts to male contact and guide his father to him, before any of the local Imperials decided to get truly nasty. But hours in they were still at it and no sign of Vader. Luke shifted in his chair, trying to alleviate the pain in his back from the uncomfortable hunched position he was forced in.

Finally the door opened with an ominous hiss and in it stood Darth Vader. Luke didn’t care that the Imperials probably thought that he’d lost it. He grinned broadly, relief settling in his stomach.

The interrogator threw him an ugly look. “You’ll regret that you didn’t talk in time, rebel.”

He stalked from the room. The door closed behind, leaving him alone with Vader.

“You sure took your time,” Luke looked up at him, hoping he managed to stop his nerves from showing in his voice.

Vader crossed the distance between him with alarming speed and despite Luke’s determination not to let Vader intimidate him, he shuffled back as far as the short chain his cuffs where attached to allowed. Luke felt a chilly breeze brush over him.

“Are you injured?” Vader asked.

Luke shook his head. Vader rounded him, then planted himself in front of him, eerily reminding Luke of uncle Owen when he was about to deliver one of his stern lectures.

“You were foolish to come here, young one. The rebels’ intel must be sorely lacking, if they thought this little raid could have ever been successful. You are lucky I was close by to come for you.”

Luke bit his lip to avoid antagonizing Vader with some snarky reply. “Can we get rid of these?” Luke tried instead, lifting his arms up to show Vader the uncomfortable cuffs.

“I still have a few questions.”

“Is this really necessary,” Luke said sourly pulling at the short chains that kept his hands on the table, making it clink.

“Considering our last meeting it seems prudent to restrain you,” Vader replied dryly. “As I have said, I have a few things to discuss with you first.”

“I am _not_ turning and I am _not_ telling you anything about the Alliance.”

“I have no interest in what petty things you might know about the Alliance and we will revisit the topic of your future at length, young one,” Vader wagged his finger in Luke’s face. “But now I wish to discuss some disturbing items that were found in your comlink.”

Vader reached for his belt and placed a comlink on the table in front of Luke.

What?” Luke stared at it. It looked like his comlink. Upon his capture, it had been confiscated along with his lightsaber and blaster. But he was still completely at a loss what Vader could possibly be referring to.

“Do not think you could be playing games with me.” Vader said. He picked up the comlink to read something. “Your eyes glitter like stars, when you tune your X-Wing -“

“ _Stop_!” Luke shouted to prevent Vader from continuing any further. He had expected anything, but not Vader to have stumbled across this stupid little poem someone had sent to him anonymously. Han and Wedge had each taken turn in reciting it in squeaky voices whenever they bumped into him in the corridors for days. Hearing it from Vader was even worse.

“So you admit to know these?” Vader demanded. “There are many more, all of them with clear intent to woo you.”

Luke felt hot blood rush into his cheeks. “You can't just go through my com, it's private -“

“I most certainly can, young one. I am your father. I only have your best interest at heart.”

“You cut off my _hand_!” Luke stared at Vader incredulous, flexing his prosthetic hand involuntarily, the memory of the moment bringing back the tingling in his wrist that he had felt so often in the weeks after their encounter on Bespin. “How is that my best interest?”

“A regrettable incident. One that will never occur again,” Vader replied, his voice tight.

“You have no right to lecture me.”

“Yet you seem in dire need of parental counseling.”

“I am an adult, I can decide for myself.”

“I beg to differ,” Vader remarked scathingly. He leaned in a little closer, making Luke involuntarily shrink back. “Did you have intercourse with any of these suitors?”

The color in his cheeks returned with a vengeance.

“What? No!” he stammered.

“Tell me the truth, young one.”

“It _is_ the truth!”

“Or any other of you so called ‘friends’?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It is very much my business. Your refusal to answer leads me to suspect that you did.”

“No, I didn’t. Are you happy now?” Luke wished the floor would open up and swallow him to spare him this discussion. No interrogation could possibly be worse than this.

“I see.” Vader seemed satisfied with Luke’s answer and Luke relaxed a bit. “I promise you that I will personally go after anyone daring to chase you.” With worry Luke watched Vader pat the hilt of his lightsaber.

“If you’re done now, can you _please_ get rid of these?” Luke once more shook his hands, to divert Vader’s attention form this horrible topic.

“Not quite yet,” Vader replied. He straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back. “Are you familiar with the workings of human reproduction? Have your guardians ever discussed this with you?”

Luke couldn’t believe his ears, hoping he had somehow misheard. “What would _you_ even know about it,” he snapped, staring Vader’s armored suit up and down.

“Really your immaturity knows no boundaries. I have gathered enough knowledge when I was younger and uninjured, young one. _You_ are the living proof of that.”

Luke cringed at that, but Vader forged on, unperturbed, watching him squirm in his restraints. He found himself wishing they would rather talk about alliance intel.

“First of all, you are much too young and naïve to embark on this journey. Attachments to friends and lovers are dangerous. As to the mechanical workings -“

“No, please, please don't,” Luke tried in vain to bring his hands up to cover his ears, the embarrassment too much.

“I trust you are aware of the functionality of -“

+++

Notes: Okay, this was peak silly. I promise the next one-shot will be a lot more serious.


	7. Mustafar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading this collection of short stories! As promised, this one is much more serious than the last one. Thanks to Maedre13. We brainstormed together a scenario in which Luke saves Vader's life without knowing that Vader is his father.

+++

The narrow ledge their duel had taken them to broke off unexpectedly. With a desperate, force-enhanced jump, Luke leapt and managed to land on the shore of ashes, precious meters away from the molten lava, so hot that even looking into its direction it burned on the face uncomfortably. But mid jump he lost hold on his lightsaber. With dismay, he saw that it clattered over the gravel coming to rest much closer to the scorching stream right at Vader’s feet. There was no way he could retrieve it.

With a pang in his heart, Luke turned around. It hurt to lose the only keepsake he had of his father to the man that had killed him. Bur their duel, if it could even be called that, had been a very one sided one. Vader was merely toying with him. That had become clearer to Luke with every easily blocked attack and every halfhearted counter attack. Now unarmed he wouldn’t stand a prayer against the Sith. If he wished to survive he needed to run before Vader would give chase.

Luke dashed away, checking every few steps if Vader was closing in. But he wasn't. For some incomprehensible reason, Vader just stood there, his back turned to Luke, looking out on the lava stream as if he had frozen up right where he had landed.

Luke slowed his steps a little, frowning. He threw another glance back to Vader, who had still yet to make a move. His imposing dark form was set off starkly against the hellish red gleam of the lava.

_Something wasn't right._

Why wasn't Vader moving? Surely it must be scorching hot there, so close to the lava. Maybe his suit protected him, Luke thought. He stepped up his pace again. He needed to get away or Vader would kill him.

It had been a foolish endeavor to say the least. What had he been thinking, seeking out Vader on this planet housing his base? But when he had read the newly gathered intel the rebel alliance had procured about Vader's activities on Mustafar, Luke had delved into daydreams of finally confronting and killing his father's murderer.

Well, the intel had been right and Luke had stumbled right into Vader not long after he had landed on the hostile planet. Vader had found him before Luke had even made up his mind if he should infiltrate the large foreboding structure towering above the lava streams. And he had wasted no time to engage Luke in combat. Luke would be lucky to get away alive. Or maybe not lucky, it seemed Vader had lost his interest in chasing him around.

Luke dared another look back to the Dark Lord. He still hadn't moved.

_Something wasn't right._

The feeling nagged at him, but Luke tried to quash it. He should concentrate to locate his X-Wing. But he couldn’t quite shake the unease churning in his guts. Luke turned around again now coming to a full halt. He stared over to Vader, gasping in air, the heat making breathing painful.

Why wasn't Vader moving. His mask was angled down at the lava as if he was staring transfixed into it. Clearly the heat wasn't affecting him as much as it had Luke. Or was it? Incredulous Luke watched as the bottom of Vader's cape, moving faintly in the hot winds, was catching fire, yet Vader was making no move.

Maybe he somehow couldn’t move anymore. Luke shook his head. He should turn and run, he told himself. If Vader would burn to death he should be happy with that. Served that Monster right, for killing Ben, for killing Anakin Skywalker, for torturing Leia. For all his crimes.

But Luke didn't quite manage to unbolt his feet from the ground. No, this wasn't right, no one deserved to die like this, not even Vader.

"Hey!" he called out.

Vader didn't even twitch.

Something _definitely_ wasn't right.

For another moment Luke hesitated, then he made up his mind.

"Ah, hells," he cursed, dashing back to where Vader stood. He ignored the small voices in his head sounding a lot like Han and Leia, berating him for what might as well be the last foolishness he'd ever do. With every step the heat became more intense. Luke stopped some cautious steps away from Vader.

"Hey, you gotta move!" he shouted. But Vader didn't even acknowledge his presence.

Luke hesitated again. He had no intention to bring himself in Vader’s striking range again. Maybe Vader was simply luring him in. But no, the flames were slowly licking up the cape, this couldn’t be right.

Wishing that he wasn’t signing off his own death sentence with this, Luke crossed the last few steps to Vader. He grabbed one of his arms, pulling. Vader took a stumbling step toward him, but his gaze never left the lava stream. So close by, Luke noticed that the usual measured mechanical hiss of the respirator sounded a lot fainter, merely a feeble wheeze.

“Are you crazy?” Luke pulled again. “Do you want to die?”

Vader continued to ignore him. Was he sleeping behind that mask? The flames were working their way up the stupid cape. Luke fumbled with the small chain at Vader's throat that kept it in place. Finally it got loose and he let the fabric fall to the ground. The heat from the lava was almost unbearable. He couldn’t stand it much longer.

Luke pulled again at Vader’s arm, and the towering giant made another stumbling step toward him. But they weren’t making enough progress like this. Luke needed to come up with a better idea. He wrapped Vader’s arm around him, putting in all his effort. Agonizingly slowly they made their way over the ash covered ground, the heat becoming a little less intense with every step. Vader now heavily leaned on Luke his weight almost too much.

Luke looked up the small cliff they had fallen down. Alone he’d be able to climb it, but there was no way he could get Vader’s bulk up there. But maybe he didn’t need to. They seemed far enough from the lava. He could leave Vader here to recover from whatever had caused him to just stop working. It seemed ludicrous to think that someone like Vader could freeze in fear, but any other explanation for his odd behavior was even more laughable.

Luke tried to maneuver Vader to the ground slowly, but he couldn’t support his weight. Vader landed with a heavy thump on his back, pulling Luke with him, his arm still wrapped around Luke.

“Kreth.” Luke tried to loosen the firm hold. He had done his bit, now he needed to get away or Vader would wake up from his stupor. Luke strongly doubted that Vader would have any qualms offing him despite just having saved his life. With relief Luke finally shook off the heavy arm. But in that moment Vader stirred. The mask turned to look at him. Luke tried to jump back, but Vader had already caught his wrist in a firm grasp.

“Son?” he rasped.

“What?” Luke pulled against the grip. “I’m not…” Maybe it had been too hot for Vader after all and now he had truly lost it.

“Son…,” Vader was staring at him intently.

Yep, Vader had officially lost it. Luke would have snorted at the notion of someone like Vader having children, but right now he had other things to worry about. Frustrated he pried at the fingers, but he didn't manage to get out of the vice-like hold. Maybe he could somehow convince Vader to let go.

“Alright, yeah. It’s me, your son. Now you need to let me go so I can get help!” he tried. Miraculously the grip on him eased a little bit.

“Son.” Vader repeated, a little firmer.

Encouraged Luke nodded enthusiastically. “I’m here. Now you just-” But in that moment Vader sat up alarmingly fast, his body tension returning and his breathing was a lot steadier. Luke reared back, but the hand around his wrist was closing again and Vader pulled him down. Luke pushed against the armored chest, but to no avail. hen Vader spoke next he sounded much more like he usually did.

“Foolish child.”

+++


	8. The Dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, admittedly I could do with a break from my main story and write something else. This idea comes from a tumblr post of a screencap of Luke during his confrontation with the Emperor during ROTJ in which he looks quite frankly like he is a ballet dancer doing a pirouette. It turned out a bit more serious than planned. Enjoy.

+++

Luke shivered. He pulled his legs up and hugged his arms around his knees. It was cold and the thin and heavily sequined unitard he was wearing was doing very little to keep him warm. He glanced to the chrono on the wall, normally used to time their entrances. It was well past their usual performance time. So far no one had told them anything, but by now it seemed clear that tonight there would be no performance, something unheard of in the long history of Coruscant’s prestigious First Ballet.

Luke threw a look around. Some of his fellow dancers were just sitting hunched, exhausted by the long and tense wait. Some met his eyes. In their faces Luke could see the same uncertainty and nervousness that he felt.

When the raid had started and the white armored troopers clattered in droves into the venerable halls of the ballet, Luke had made a dash to one of their quieter back exits. But even after trying several of them he found them all either sealed or guarded, more troopers ready to arrest whoever wished to leave. Luke hadn’t risked it. The last thing he needed was alerting the Imperials to the fact that he might have more reason than others to run.

So Luke had resigned himself to his fate and obliged when he was ushered with some fellow dancers into the vast entrance hall of the ballet theatre. By the looks of it everyone in the building had been rounded up and brought here. From there they had been separated by their positions they held in the ballet. All dancers had ended up in this small backstage room. Then the waiting had begun. Luke had no idea where all the others had ended up, if they were released or held somewhere else in the building.

“I wish they would hurry up, I am sick of waiting,” someone whispered. “I wonder who they are looking for anyway.”

“You think they let us go home when they are done questioning?” one of the students asked quietly.

“Possibly, no one returned so far, right?” another dancer said. Luke privately thought that that could have other reasons too, but he didn’t say this out loud.

Luke bit his lip. He threw a glance to one of the other dancers. Hopefully had imagined the hostile look he had thrown him earlier. They had been friends for ages in the dance academy, both of them from poor families and only able to afford the training through scholarships, but when Luke had been given the main role in their latest performance, a rare lucky chance for someone fresh from the academy it had set them at odds. But he of all was one of the precious few on the whole planet that knew his real name and most more importantly that he hadn’t changed his name just as to adopt a stage name.

He flinched at the sharp sound of the door to the room opening. Not for the first time a bored looking officer flanked by troopers peered into the room. He scanned the room. Luke and the others were eying him with apprehension.

His eyes focused on Luke and his heart sank.

“That one,” the officer said curtly, nodding to his escort.

For a moment Luke found himself petrified with fear. But then he got to his feet. This raid must have a different target, he told himself firmly. It certainly wasn’t to find him. If he stuck to his story he would be alright. He stepped through the door.

“Your name?” the man asked, running his eyes over Luke’s glittery outfit with a derisive half-smirk around his lips.

“Riyan Andross,” Luke supplied with conviction, used enough to his alias after years and years of going by it. He fished his ID from his pocket and dropped it into the impatiently beckoning hand of the man. The forger had cleared him out of almost three months worth of salary for it and hopefully would be worth its price.

The officer checked the datapad he had in his hand and frowned.

“Take him to the main stage,” he said, waiving the troopers.

Luke followed them down the familiar way, a way he had taken almost every day after he had been accepted into the ensemble. He stopped at the side entrance behind the heavy black curtains that kept the backstage hustle and bustle from drifting onto the mainstage during their performances.

“Go through,” someone told him and Luke obeyed mechanically.

He stepped through the curtain, blinking briefly in the harsh light that shone onto the vast empty stage. Adrenaline mixed with fear. He forced himself to keep walking in the eerie quiet, the utter absence of the usual harmony of music, the shuffle of many feet and the buzz from the audience making him feel uncomfortable. He continued, counting in his head the steps to the marking in the very middle. He stopped when he reached it and lifted his head to look straight into the direction of the hall.

The limelight of the many lightdroids blinded him. Looking into the auditorium was like staring at a black wall or rather a one way mirror. It was hard to see much of the rows of seats in the hall or of the balconies and boxes high above him. Only the very front rows received enough of the reflected light from the stage to make out faces.

But even with his limited visibility to see the vast hall beyond the lights he knew that it was empty. Empty but for one, very recognizable figure sitting enthroned in the middle of the very first row right behind the orchestra pit.

Darth Vader was staring at him.

Luke felt as if his heart had stuttered to a halt. He stared wide-eyed at the Dark Lord. His game was up. Surely Vader knew of his real identity, of who his father had been more precisely. A clammy cold engulfed him and he shuddered.

Vader had been here at the ballet just a few days ago. It had caused a huge amount of hushed talk and speculations, as to why Darth Vader would come to visit one of their performances. Now he was back to arrest him.

“Did you not hear me, boy?” Vader’s deep rumbling voice carried through the empty room.

Luke froze. He hadn’t heard Vader addressing him before. “I…I, pardon, my Lord?” Luke stuttered.

“I said, dance,” Vader repeated, his voice laced with impatience.

Luke hesitated another few precious moments, surely he must have misheard.

“Dance, boy,” Vader said once more, his voice taking on a dangerous edge.

Luke swallowed, he’d better do something, and fast. Without music it was harder, but he had practiced his steps a thousand times and he could do them in his sleep. He pulled his shoulders back and his chin up. Luke closed his eyes, as he often did and let concentrated, trying to find his usual flow in which he could easily forget his surroundings. Luke stretched out his arms and gathered his momentum. He took a deep breath and pushed off with his back leg into his first pirouette.

With each turn he could forget better who was watching him, and lose himself in the rush of the dance. He finished his turns and took a step to the side. He pushed as forcefully as possible off the floor to launch himself into a split jump. A few steps more and Luke was caught up in the way his body seemed to move in unison with the very fabric of the universe.

+++

Representing the Emperor at the opening night of a ballet had been one of the most infuriating demands of his Master while he was grounded on Coruscant. Vader certainly hadn’t thought this tiresome task would lead him to find a new potential apprentice until the curtain had raised and despite all the dancers on stage he had only eyes for one of them. The young blonde man that now stood timidly and shivering from cold and anticipation on the stage in front of him.

That night, the moment he had started to dance, Vader had felt it. The buzz and swing in the Force as it flowed around him, guided him through his steps. It made his movements smoother and yet more expressive, it allowed the boy to glide over the stage and perform the steps with a graciousness none of the other dancers could ever dream of achieving. A true prodigy.

The young man was Force sensitive, there was no doubt. What was more, even untrained he had a natural connection to the Force, an instinctive use that many Jedi Masters would have been envious of. Such talent was rare. Vader had watched him throughout the evening and had concluded that he could make a good apprentice.

But he had held himself back. Amidst the thousands of sentient beings around them, the Force was bound to be strong. Maybe the young man would not be able to repeat the feat alone in an empty space. It was the reason he had ordered the raid on the ballet, an embezzling administrator providing an inconspicuous reason to revisit the house and to test the boy’s abilities without raising too many questions.

It was time to find out if he had been right with his initial assessment of the dancer’s abilities. So far the trembling boy in his skintight glittery outfit showed little promise. He had no right to be this fearful regardless of the unusual circumstances of his performance.

“Dance, boy,” Vader said for the third time, his annoyance of the young man’s disobedience showing in his voice.

It was enough to get the boy to finally move. First hesitantly and stiff he fell into the steps of his choreography. But almost instantly the Force responded to his movements as he lost himself in the folds of the universal energy around him. Like invisible ribbons it moved and curled with every step and jump of the dancer.

Vader’s lips cured in a satisfied smile. He had been right. This young man showed enough promise to make him his apprentice. His raw talent demanded, no begged to be honed and put to use. With proper instruction he would become a formidable asset, maybe even talented enough to take on Palpatine once the time was right. Satisfied he watched the boy dance, spin and jump, the Force responding to and aiding his every turn and move.

“My lord?”

With a flare of anger at the interruption, Vader tore his eyes from the performance on stage. “What is it,” he barked harshly, causing his aide to back up half a step. He held out quickly a datapad for him to take.

“Y-you were right, sir. He uses a fake identity. What is more, one of the other dancers has confessed he is the offspring of a Jedi traitor. His name is Luke Skywalker, son of Anakin Skywalker.”

Vader stared stunned first at the datapad with the details of the dancer’s true identity then back at the boy on stage who launched his body into a particularly complicated jump. A son.

“Shall I arrest him?” the aide enquired after Vader failed to say anything.

“No, I will deal with him myself,” he finally managed to bring out. His aide saluted and left. Vader turned back to the stage. The young dancer had stopped, his routine completed. He regarded at him with huge, fearful eyes, looking like he couldn’t wait to be dismissed.

_Skywalker._

If the boy knew of his parentage then perhaps his fear wasn’t as unreasonable as it had first seemed.

“Continue,” Vader ordered.

The boy looked dismayed, but he did not dare to protest. He fell into the next sequence of steps and once again the Force responded to his subconscious call.

_Luke Skywalker._

He had a son. He would find out how the child he had thought long dead had survived and come to be here, but there would be time for that later.

Vader leaned back, reveling in dark satisfaction as he watched the boy dance.

Indeed he had found a worthy apprentice.

+++


	9. Insidious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be mindful that this quite a dark story especially compared to the lighter and funnier ones of this series. It features **implied torture, implied (minor) character death and references to maltreatment** , so please be be aware of these warnings before reading and probably best omit the story if these topics would upset you.
> 
> There is no point denying it, this is a very open nod to a story called Empire’s Son by blank101. It is a well written and very, very dark story that kept me wrapped and made me feel sick at the same time. I highly recommend it as well as all other stories of the same author.

+++

The moment Darth Vader had stepped into the vast throne room he had known that was too late. The blasted boy was with his master. Dutifully he knelt in front on the throne, head lowered. But despite his pose of supplication, Vader could feel satisfaction rolling off him. He needed no explanation for this, as his master started without preamble. The boy had found out his plans to overthrow Palpatine mere months before his plans could be put into motion. His aide had warned him just moments ago, but it seemed the boy had beat him at reporting him to their joint master before Vader had the chance to silence him permanently.

“I am very disappointed, Lord Vader,” his master said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “You leave me no other choice, but to send you away. But be rest assured that your time in the Outer Rim will be well spent. Consider yourself lucky, the fate of your co-conspirators was more decidedly more… final.”

“But master, you-“ the kneeling boy interjected.

Red hot fury boiled in Vader. The boy was willing to twist the knife.

“Now, now, young one,” Palpatine chided with a chuckle that bared his yellow teeth. “There is no need for this.” His master turned his gaze back to Vader. “You are dismissed, Lord Vader.”

Wordlessly Vader turned and left. There was nothing left to say. Behind his back the emperor spoke up again. "Stand up, child. You deserve a reward for your loyalty.“

That day Vader had vowed to himself that one day in the not so distant future he would take his revenge on the boy. His years of work, of minting officers and trustworthy allies, of gathering intelligence and ships. All for naught at the grin of that boy.

Oh, he'd take his time to rip that smile off his face. He’d make him suffer like none other before. He’d break his limbs bone for bone, carve scars into his youthful skin. The last thing the boy would ever bring over his lips would be a hoarse plea for Vader to end his suffering.

He would show no mercy.

+++

Kenobi had become old. His moves were slow and easy to counter. But he would never shut up. Vader ignored what the old man had to say. Maybe the desert sun had taken away his final bit of sanity, that he still sought to plead to the foolish Anakin Skywalker who had died in the hot ashes of Mustafar thirteen years ago.

“I do not want to fight you,” his former Master repeated for what felt like the hundredths time while he struggled more and more to keep Vader’s rapid attacks at bay. “Don’t you see it, Anakin. Your son is in danger.”

Despite himself Vader broke off his next blow that might have taken the wretched man’s head. “I have no son,” he spat. Thanks to Kenobi he had no son, no wife, no one left to live for.

“You know exactly who-“ But the old hermit broke off. “You don’t know he is your son?”

Obi-Wan was making less and less sense. It was time to put the old man out of his misery. Hardly a satisfying end to his hunt. Vader swung his blade again, his blow hard enough to beat the lightsaber out of his former master’s hands.

“I am talking about Luke,” Kenobi shouted and once more it managed to still Vader’s hands. Vader stared at his disarmed master. Luke. The name alone was enough to reignite the boiling rage inside of him.

“That _boy_ ,” he began slowly and with enough venom to make Kenobi flinch.

“He’s your son,” he quickly interjected. “Your son! Search your feelings, Anakin. You know it to be true.”

Vader’s anger indeed evaporated, spent at how true the Force rang with his master’s words. As much as he longed to deny it. The Force sounded around them. He’d longed to deny it, but it must be true. It explained a lot. The boy's resemblance to the young boy that had lived on these very planet before the Jedi had ripped him from his mother. His formidable talent in the force and his aptitude for dueling. His uncanny likeness to Padme’s way to gesture whenever he spoke that had never failed to provoke Vader’s hatred.

His son.

His _son_.

For more than a year in the Outer Rim while tearing through the ranks of corrupt Imperials and Hutts alike, he had consoled himself with the knowledge that he’d get back at the boy. How he would wrench his revenge from the smirking brat. Vader had fantasized in excruciating detail how he’d torment him until he’d tire listening to the boy’s anguished screams.

His own son.

Years of planning to defeat his master would come in handy, not all of them undone by the boy’s.

Palpatine would pay.

+++

The boy knelt in front of him where he had ordered him to be, his sides still heaving after the taxing duel with four dueling droids at the same time. Remarkably the boy had held his own for a long while, but he was bound to fail as his strength left him. Even after years of punishing the child, of egging him on and plunging him into the Dark Side as thoroughly as Palpatine could, Luke still failed to draw on it to fuel and fortify himself.

As the duel had dragged on he had received painful blows as exhaustion made his moves imprecise and slow and had Palpatine not deactivated the droids in time they would have succeeded in killing the boy. Palpatine had called the struggling child worthless and weak, his words cutting deeper as the gashes the lightsabers could.

Palpatine’s gaze rested on the sandy blonde tuft of sweaty hair plastered to the boy’s skull, his lips curling into a pleased smile. He let the silence drag, his scathing words sink into the boy. This child, the son of the chosen one, he was truly his master piece. Despite his shortcomings in the dark side he was still so young and yet deadly and precise. So eager to please and obedient. He’d throw himself into his lightsaber, earned for the betrayal of his own father’s plans, if Palpatine just demanded it.

The boy’s father. Palpatine’s smile broadened. Luke had no inkling that his biggest rival, the very real threat to his life was his own sire. Keeping the two separate, at odds with each other ensured that they could never rise up against him together.

The child’s nervousness increased at his prolonged silence. Palpatine leisurely got to his feet and walked slowly down the steps to the kneeling figure, a faint tremble in those lean limbs betraying his exertion. Palpatine stopped right in front of him and Luke’s fear spiked. Deliberately he let the threat of his presence hang between them, let the child be unsure if he’d punish him for his failure to live up to his exacting standards. Luke did not dare to raise his head, his gaze fixed on the ground where drops of sweat and blood mixed.

He reached out with a hand, a gnarled finger sneaking under the child’s chin titling his head up, forcing him to meet his master’s gaze. Uncertainty was edged in the fine lines of the youthful face.

“What do I do with you, child,” he said, his voice soft and tinted with fake disappointment.

“I-I’m sorry, Master,” the boy said, his eyes never daring to avoid his piercing gaze, his shields impeccable, despite his fatigue. How he had scolded the boy for the annoying light of his force presence, how he had punished him for every trip-up until he had learned to shroud himself.

“I gave you purpose and place in this life. Without me you are nothing.”

“Nothing, Master,” the boy echoed.

Truly, the boy was his.

+++

The alarm had reached him during the middle of the night. His master had already retreated to his sanctuary, to wait out the attack well protected by his royal guards, but they would not suffice to keep Vader away. This was his task.

Luke turned and marched in the other direction, the direction he knew the attack was coming from.

Luke stood in the vast dark throne room, lightsaber ready in his hand. The sound of fighting floated through the palace, still muted and far away. Until the large double doors opened. For a moment Luke could only see black against black. But then he could hear something new, the distinct sound of mechanical breathing. Luke ignited his lightsaber, the humming red blade calling for blood.

Vader strode slowly closer, his own saber hanging off his belt. “You have grown stronger since I have last seen you, Luke,” he intoned with his deep, chilling to the core voice.

“Traitor,” Luke hissed, raising his lightsaber, but Vader still didn’t ignite his own.

“You have never lasted long in a duel with me,” Vader said instead. “Yield, child, and you will not be harmed.”

“I have learned enough. I will defeat you.”

“Indeed, you might. But I have not come alone.”

Luke’s eyes were drawn over Vader’s shoulder into the dark entrance to the throne room. Two more figures appeared a human and a vicous looking green kobold. They came closer, stepping up to Vader’s side. All three of them igniting their lightsaber.

 _Jedi_.

Briefly fear threatened to petrify Luke, but then he managed to collect himself. He’d fight and he’d win or give his life for his master. But he would take as many as he could with him.

“Traitor,” Luke said again.

Luke eyed Vader and his companions. Vader was a known quantity and he was a fearsome opponent. Without his master’s protection Vader would have killed him many times over. And he had never had any qualms to beat him, injure him, scar him whenever he could. So Luke would better concentrate on decimating his backup. On second glance both the green kobold and the man looked old. Hopefully that meant they would be easier to defeat.  

“You wouldn't yet understand, Luke. There are some things worth sacrificing for,” Vader said, catching his attention again.

Anger bubbled in Luke. “I’d sacrifice everything for my master,” he declared with conviction.

“Indeed, you would. But it will no longer be necessary.”

Luke was about to retort something, but the green kobold chose that moment to charge at him. Their blades clashed and Luke was driven back a few steps by the ferocity of this little demon.

Luke struggled to hold his own until, for a valuable moment, he managed to fully draw on the Dark Side, which so often eluded him. Luke channeled and honed it and he threw his hands out, delivering a strong force push. The green kobold was hit squarely in the side and he slammed into the wall where he came to rest in a heap on the floor.

Luke didn’t waste any time to round on the old man. Time to even the numbers, he thought grimly.

The old man stumbled back, Luke’s fierce blows too powerful. But Luke’s final killing blow was stopped unexpectedly by the green kobold that had suprisingly fast recovered from his earlier attack. Their blades locked and despite his unassuming size the kobold was able to push Luke’s lightsaber back.

His danger sense went off, warning him from a threat from behind and Luke disengaged his blade lock with the green kobold to whirl around. Vader stood just steps behind him, his lightsaber switched off and a blaster raised at him. Luke brought up his lightsaber to block the shot but he was a split second too slow. The blue ring of the stun shot hit grazed his side and the feeling of utter numbness soaked through his body.

Luke sagged to his knees. He lost his hold on the lightsaber as his right hand went slack. He fumbled with his left hand, but the old man kicked his lightsaber far away. It skidded over the smooth floor.

Defenseless he watched as Vader fired again. The second stun shot hit him squarely in the chest and Luke slumped to the floor. He expected his consciousness to be taken away, but he remained keenly aware of the three men approaching him, their blades switched off.

The green kobold reached him first. He bent down to regard him. “Injured he is not,” he declared as he placed his three-clawed paw on Luke’s forehead.

Vader knelt down next to him. Strangely gentle and reverently he brushed the hair that had fallen into Luke’s face to the side. He took his arms one after the other and placed his wrists in a set of heavy binders. The moment they touched his skin, Luke felt cold, a chill ran through his limp body that seemed to emanate from the cold metal. But it was more than that. The Force. It was gone.

As the stun shot wore off, Luke twisted and turned in the shackles. He worried his wrists against the unyielding binders. Where the Force lingered at the back of his mind, always ready to be called upon was a yawning nothingness, a black void that left his every being feel empty too. Luke failed to suppress a tremble. He knew what these were. They had stuck him with force repressing binders

He knew this feeling too well, it brought back horrifying moments of pain and humiliation. His master had enjoyed employing these against him whenever he pleased. He would deprive him of the force and hand him over to droids, designed to inflict pain or to his guards who relished in torturing him when he was helpless to stop them.

The Jedi traitors set off, yet Vader inexplicably stayed by his side. Luke eyed the doors to the side of the hall through which the Jedi had left to find and kill his master, longing for a way to set off after them, to help his master. But the way was blocked. Vader had plunged his lightsaber into the doors locking mechanism to make it impossible to open.

He was trapped.

+++

Vader sat next to his bound son, eying him with the caressing gaze of a father seeing his newborn son for the first time. He was as lean and small as he remembered. Too small for his age, a testament to the malnutrition and abuse he had to endure at the hands of their master.

Their former Master, Vader reminded himself.

He'd free the child once and for all from Palpatine's influence.

The Force flared as Palpatine's all too familiar, oppressing presence was extinguished once and for all.

A sob shook the boy, held pinned by Vader’s superior strength and weight. He could easily understand the boy's grief and loss at his failure to protect his master.

“I know what you think he means to you,” he said, hoping to console the child. “I thought like that once, too. You will overcome his influence on you. You will be free.”

Vader reached out, gently yet without pulling back at he the boy's flinch. He let his gloved hand rake through his hair, imagining he could feel the soft strands through the leather. An awkward gesture of consolation. He knew that time was needed to free the child of Palpatine's cloying grasp, patience to mend their own shattered relationship. Years upon years of rivalry, of mutual resentment and hatred had driven them far apart.

Vader reached out with the force, touching the boy's mind that under the influence of the force repressants lay bare, stripped of its strong shields that Vader had often tried to penetrate before to hurt, to insult.

Now instead he searched for a sense of familiarity. It was feeble, but it was there. Buried deep in the recesses of the child's mind it lay hidden, dormant and weak. The bond that should have thrived between them.

The boy twisted and turned in his bonds, distress darkening his presence as he keenly felt what Vader was doing, but remained utterly helpless to stop him. Vader retreated from his mind, unwilling to scare the boy any more. Because what could Luke expect but for Vader meaning to hurt and to rip from him what he pleased.

Instead Vader reached with his hands, effortlessly picking the boy up. He straightened and without looking back once he marched to the doors and off to the landing pad, where his shuttle waited. Let the Jedi take what they want. What mattered an empire against the boy.

His prize.

His reward.

His son.

+++

Luke was lying on his bed, face pressed into the mattress to allow 2-1B the medical droid to tend to his back. Every morning since his arrival in this place, the droid would come to treat him. Luke had refused it in the beginning, but he had yielded eventually.

On his back were most of his scars. They formed a criss-cross pattern. Some of them were old and for most he couldn’t remember the particular occasion that had earned him the punishment. But for others he still knew by heart when they had been edged into his body.

Kenobi, the Jedi, had seen him a few times, offering him to talk about the past and his future, but Luke had ignored him. He wouldn’t listen to any Jedi traitor.

_He is your Father, Luke. The emperor found out about you and had you kidnapped. I am sorry I couldn't protect you better._

Kenobi had also offered to tell him about what was happening in the galaxy right now. Luke didn’t care. He had failed his master.

Yoda, the name of the vicous green kobold, had visited too.

_A New purpose in life you must find._

_To save you, your Father turned back to the light._

Some weeks in, Luke had given up on his denial. Vader was his father. His name was Luke Skywalker and Vader had once been named Anakin Skywalker. His master had captured him at young age to take him as his apprentice.

Divide and conquer, Kenobi had explained. By keeping their relationship from Luke and Vader, Palpatine had ensured that they would always be rivals, Luke an open contender to Vader’s position. Still, that didn’t mean he should forgive Vader for brutalizing him at every opportunity he got. Many of the scars on his body were from ‘sparring’ matches with Vader. Luke could well remember Vader’s pleasure that he took from punishing Luke’s every mistake with painful lessons.

2-1B finished his work and Luke sat up, his gaze travelling out the window of his room, high in the western tower of the fortress he was kept at. Below the view stretched over a vast green landscape, grey clouds racing above as usual.

Luke made to stretch out with the Force, before he remembered the metal bands still on his wrists that kept him from reaching it. Vader had offered him to remove them, if in exchange Luke would listen to him.

Luke had refused.

In the weeks and months that Luke had been here, Vader had not once left the fortress despite his Star Destroyer constantly looming over them in the sky, visible whenever the clouds would open briefly. It was no surprise. He was Vader’s prisoner in all but in name. Even if his door remained unlocked and he had access to the whole fortress, something Luke had discovered after 2-1B had declared him fit to leave the bed.

Luke had used the opportunity to escape, or he would have. But he had to cede after finding that all space-worthy crafts had been cleared from the hangar bays of the fortress. What was more, his initial suspicion was confirmed that Vader had brought his prisoner to Vjun, his private retreat. Luke had read every snippet of information he could get of the planet, back then he had never known of that information might come in handy, might even save his life one day.

But it also meant that he knew running would get him nowhere. Vjun was ravaged almost daily by heavily acidic rain and without shelter and means to escape into atmosphere he was stuck to the fortress which was protected from the dangerous gale by shields.

No one had disturbed him on his extensive forays throughout the vast installation in search of some way to escape and later just to pass the time. Sometimes he would be gently coaxed back to another area, but no one had ever raised a hand against him no matter where he went.

Luke had refused to let himself be mollified by that.

But as the weeks had stretched, Luke had found himself more and more hard pressed to find reasons why he shouldn’t talk to his father. Despite the droids keeping him company, he felt lonely, lost in his own black world of failure.

Luke’s musings were interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“Good morning, Master Luke!! I bring your breakfast.”

Luke turned his head to regard his visitor. “Thank you, Threepio,” he said.

“Shall I call Artoo so we can keep you company over breakfast? Or do you want to go down to eat with your Father?”

Luke bit his lip. Maybe it was time to get some answers. “I want to go down,” he mumbled.

“I am sorry, Master Luke. But my audio receptors didn’t quite catch that.”

“Downstairs,” Luke said a bit louder.

“Certainly, Master Luke. Your Father will be delighted,” Threepio announced cheerfully.

+++

He could feel the boy approach. Even with the detestable shackles on, Luke’s light in the Force was impossible to extinguish. If only the boy would listen to him, then he could give him more freedom.

The door swished open and Luke stepped cautiously through, scanning the room and spotting him in a beat. He looked as closed off as always when they met. But Vader could feel something between them, that gave him hope.

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To give a little context:
> 
> Luke was discovered by Palpatine on Tatooine while he was still very young. Owen and Beru sadly did not survive the encounter and Obi-Wan failed to prevent this. Ever since Luke grew up under his cruel master’s influence on Coruscant. By omitting Luke’s last name, Vader never knew that Luke is his son, instead Palpatine did his best to put the two at odds with each other to prevent them from ever teaming up against him.
> 
> To close this on a lighter note, Vader did indeed turn back to the light to save his own son and his only goal is to win Luke’s trust. Their shared history makes it difficult to reconcile, but eventually Luke will open up.


	10. The Interrogator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borne from the idea of having Luke interrogate Vader for once in all those stories where Vader gets to question Luke instead. Also I added a new “Chapter 1” which is basically a brief directory to the stories in this collection. I don’t know if it’s helpful or not, but this way readers can pick the stories they want to give a go and skip the ones they don’t like. Hope it is helpful to some!

+++

“Will you now  _please_  tell me what this urgent mission is that you need me for?”

Luke didn’t bother to mask the frustration in his voice at the lack of explanation provided to him so far. This was the third time he had to change into another vessel and after hours in hyperspace without anyone filling him in about what was going on or even where in the galaxy he was headed, Luke’s patience was spent. 

“Ah, yes. Sorry for the secrecy, Commander,” Captain Grhy said. He rubbed his temples. Even in the dimly lit crew compartment of the ageing gunship, the strain of whatever events made the veteran captain have Luke fetched from half across the galaxy, showed on his weathered face. “This is really just between a handful of us and High Command for now. A few days ago a task force captured a small imperial outpost. Our spy network said that the Imps would keep there their long-range transmissions codes.”

Luke nodded. Finding ways to decrypt the Empire’s fleet communication had been on the very top of their objectives for ages. Knowing where the Imperials were and where they would attack next would save countless of lives on the Alliance’s side and maybe even give them the deciding edge to turn this costly war against the overpowering Empire in their favor. 

“Well, they didn’t keep the codes there,” Captain Grhy continued. “But instead they… um, Vader was there.”

Luke eyed him with horror. “What happened to them?” he asked, even though he had a fair idea of what must have been the outcome of the encounter. Ben’s final moments before Vader cut him down replayed in his head.

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” the captain said. “They captured Vader.”

“What?” Luke tried to keep his disbelieve from his voice as good as he could. “How?”

“I know, this is a very unexpected turn for us. We’d never even considered the possibility of capturing him. But Vader knows everything about the Empire, not just codes, but their plans and tactics and everything about the Emperor.”

“So you interrogated him?”

“Ah, yes… well, there is a difficulty.”

Luke’s eyebrows arched up. “Let me guess he-”’

“Won’t talk? Yes, that is the problem,” he said. “Believe me, we tried everything.”

Luke rather didn’t want to imagine what that entailed. _Remember Leia_ , he tried to remind himself. _Remember what Vader did to her. If anyone deserves this, it’s him_.

“So what do you want me to do?” Luke asked. “I don’t know enough about the Force to help with this, if that is what you’re asking.”

“No, no, not at all. You see, Vader has already agreed to talk and tell us what we want to know.”

“He did? So what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem. It’s more a technicality.”

Luke looked puzzled.

“See, he only wants to talk to you alone.”

Luke blinked once, then twice. Surely he had misheard that bit. But the way Captain Grhy was staring at him left no doubt. “What? Why me?” he choked out past the sudden lump in his throat.

“Well, we don’t know for sure. But you have reached a certain… prominence with your achievements during the battle of Yavin. We think, that must be the reason why he specifically only wants to talk to you.”

Luke stared at the rebel captain. “I can’t imagine he just wants to meet me-“

“Well, to put it bluntly, we think that he might want to try to kill you. But don’t worry, Commander.” Captain Grhy gave Luke a pat on the back almost hard enough to crack Luke’s ribs. “He is unarmed and restrained. You won’t be in any danger.” 

“What if he just bluffs? What if he doesn’t talk after all?” Luke asked, a growing unease in him.

“Well, don’t think this hasn’t occurred to us. But it is a too good chance to pass up. We need that intel.“

“I can’t do it, I can’t imagine I’m good at interrogating…” Luke began, searching for a way out of this crazy endeavor.

“We are aware that this is not ideal, you are not quite… interrogator material,” Captain Grhy said. “No offense meant,” he added hastily. “But all you need to do is ask the questions we have compiled.” 

He handed Luke a datapad. Luke flipped it on and skimmed its content. It was a long list of questions, mostly covering the Empire’s tactics and plans. They went from codes and encryptions to fleet schedules and weapons programs, down to the spies placed in the Alliance and the Emperor’s travel schedule.

Luke looked up at Captain Ghry. The captain’s encouraging smile managed to fully turn Luke’s stomach upside down.

+++

The GR-75 transport was hanging dead in space, engines shut off. It looked eerily like a ghost ship as it floated in front of them. But it wasn’t. Luke could feel it. An unnatural chill emanating vessel, growing stronger the closer they got.

Vader.

At the foot of the boarding ramp, Luke and the captain were met by two rebels. They were part of the crew put in charge of keeping Vader in check. Luke could feel the incredible tension in the men aboard.

“Anything to report?” Captain Grhy asked.

“Actually yes, sir. About two standard hours ago a Star Destroyer dropped into the system and did a sweep of the area. We couldn’t jump away in time.”

“What? How did you escape it?”

The two exchanged a brief look.

“Well, Vader warned us about it and told us to hide in the planet’s sensor shadow.”

“And you did what he told you?” the captain asked incredulous.

“Well, they didn’t find us, did they?”

“And why would he help us and thwart his own rescue?”

“Um…,” one of the rebels said, looking sheepish. “He said, and I quote here, ‘I have no wish to be killed alongside you because of your inability, shocking lack of contingency plans and’-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Captain Grhy waved him off.

“Sound like he isn’t quite subdued,” Luke said with a little worry,

“Relax, Commander, there is nothing he could do,” the captain said while managing to look remarkable unrelaxed himself.

“He really can’t, no worries, Skywalker,” one of the rebels chimed in.

“Yeah, believe me, if he could so much as twitch he would have done so when we took a self-holo with him,” the other said.

“You didn’t…” Luke said incredulously.

“’Course we did. Like we’d ever get such an opportunity again. Once High Command releases the information that we’ve got him, I’ll be sending it around.”

“Bet he didn’t like it,” Luke said.

“You’d bet right,” the rebel chuckled. “He was probably boiling under that mask. If he could he’d strangle us all.”

“Not before I disable that respirator of his-“ 

Luke turned around and followed the beckoning Captain Grhy down the corridor leaving the two bantering rebels behind. He felt slightly sick again. He had just as much reason as the rest to kill Vader, maybe even more than some other rebels. But the thought of exploiting Vader’s weakness and dependence on his suit and letting him slowly suffocate was too much for him. Captain Grhy seemed to have picked up Luke’s thoughts.

“Don’t listen to them, they are just mouthy. The Alliance won’t do anything of that kind,” he said.

“But if he talks then you won’t kill him afterward?” Luke asked. He dodged a rebel passing them who tried to give him an encouraging pat on the back

“Eventually he would die. But for now we need him alive. We want information, but it is more important for us to put him on trial. Once the trial is over he will be executed.”

“On trial?”

“Yes, this is a prime opportunity to show the galaxy our way, hold one of their leaders accountable for their deeds. With this we will be able to rally support from all over the galaxy.

Luke looked doubtful. In his opinion High Command was a bit too ready to sell the fur before shooting the Bantha.

“But until we have found a suitable location for the trial we need to keep this under wraps.”

“So no one knows he is here?”

“Only a handful of High Command. This vessel jumps around at random to avoid leaving a trace in case they are looking for him. So far there has been no official announcement from their side either. So far all our sources suggest that the Imperials don’t even know Vader is missing.”

Captain Grhy stopped in front of a door. Luke didn’t really need the prompt. There was no doubt. Vader was behind that door.

“Take this.” Captain Ghry held out a blaster to Luke. “If he so much as twitches, stun him.”

Luke grimaced. So much for the supposed confidence that Vader was posing no danger. But he took the blaster and tucked it into his belt.

“No worries commander, we remain close at hand.”

Luke couldn’t quite find that comforting. Should Vader indeed not be as restrained as they claimed, he could murder Luke in ten different ways before reinforcements could unlock the door and come to his aide. 

The door opened and Captain Grhy all but shoved Luke inside before closing the door behind him quickly. The lock clicked. Luke’s heart stuttered to a halt. He had known Vader would be in here, but that knowledge had not managed to properly prepare him for the encounter with his father’s murderer. Ben’s murderer. The man that had tortured Leia and tormented and killed countless more people.

Vader sat unmoving at the far end of the small room. He looked imposing and menacing despite the heavy binders on his wrist. For a moment only his measured mechanical breathing penetrated the silence. Luke had seen Vader only once in person, from far away in the Death Star hangar. But he had had occasionally seen him in news feeds on the farm and more often with the rebellion. Even in a small holoprojector he had managed to look intimidating, but it was nothing compared to stand right in front of him in such close quarters.

“Skywalker.”

The deep rumbling voice sent a cold shiver down Luke’s spine. But the use of his name managed to finally startle himself from his stupor. _Way to go, farmboy_. He set his jaw and took two steps closer. Standing with his back to the door, wide-eyed like a womp-rat caught in a speeder’s headlights wouldn’t help him to intimidate Vader. 

 _He is the prisoner_ , Luke reminded himself. 

Luke sat down on the metal chair across Vader. He held up the datapad to check the first question.

“What is the fleet schedule of Death Squadron,” Luke demanded, putting all the certainty he could muster into his voice. It didn’t seem to have the desired effect on Vader though. Vader didn’t answer. He kept his masked gaze unwaveringly fixed on Luke. 

“You look much younger in person,” he finally said.

Luke glowered at the jab. “You said you would answer all questions if your condition to speak to me is fulfilled” Luke said. “Here I am so now you-“

“Indeed, I will keep up my end of the bargain,” Vader said. “Apologies, Commander. Death Squadron is at the moment assembled in the Paqualis system, with the exception of the Devastator and the Tyrant which have been dispatched to assist with the local uprising on Ryloth.

Luke blinked. He hadn’t expected Vader to give him anything, much less in such a light and conversational tone. The information sounded plausible, too.

“You might also want to know that there is a new Death Star under construction in the Endor system,” Vader stated matter-of-factly.

“What?” The exclamation had escaped his mouth before Luke bit his tongue. Again he wasn’t quite sounding the collected and cool interrogator. But Vader continued unperturbed.

“I presume you would want to know its specifications?”

“Um… yes,” Luke replied. Vader was once more easily volunteering information without any pressure or threats. Was he bluffing? Or plain making fun of Luke?

“As compared to its predecessor the new battle station will be twice as large, its fire power is vastly increased and most importantly it is able to fire once every standard hour after each full reactor ignition. The recharge time is of course considerably shorter if the laser is not operating at its full capacity.”

Luke closed his mouth that had fallen open. “Is it operational yet?” he asked.

“No, it will not be operational for a while unless work is accelerated considerably. Your rebel friends should be aware though that during construction the battle station os protected by a powerful shield, located on the nearby moon. Any point blank attack is useless unless the shiled is disabled in advance.”

Luke nodded slowly as he processed this unexpected information. Vader continued to rattle down specs and defensive mechanisms surrounding the battle station. If all this was the truth and Vader was not just having him on then Luke could only hope that the recording devices in the room were picking up all details.

Vader finished. His gaze had never once wavered from Luke. “What else do you wish to know, Commander?”

“Why did you only want to talk to me?” Luke asked, curiosity getting the better of him. Vader was so easily providing information, so what had been the point to refuse to talk to anyone else.

“You are the son of Anakin Skywalker,” Vader stated simply.

Luke flustered at the unexpected answer. “How  _dare_  you talk about him? You killed my father,” he pressed out, shaking with anger.

Vader’s mask tilted a bit to the side. “Is that what they told you in order to keep you from finding him? That he is dead?” he asked. 

“You betrayed and murdered him,” Luke spat. “That’s what they told me.”

“And you believed that?” Vader stared at him. Luke wondered how he had ended up on the defense here.

“An interesting version of the truth,” Vader finally remarked. “I presume it was Obi-Wan who told you this?”

Luke refused to answer, but Vader clearly interpreted his silence right.

“I should not have granted him the merciful short end that he received,” Vader growled coldly. It made Luke shiver. Vader moved a little and Luke’s hand twitched to his blaster reflexively. “You should know that Obi-Wan always liked his little point of views, young one. And he certainly wouldn’t want you to know the truth about your father.”

Vader leaned back, while Luke still struggled with regaining some calm.

“Should you not rather ask me about recent fleet movements?” Vader asked. “It might be of some urgency to your rebel friends to know that a battle group is assembling, ready to attack the rebels’ base at Primtara.”

Luke failed spectacularly at a sabbacc face. The Rogue's were at the base. He himself had been there less than one standard day ago. If Vader had been bluffing he’d now know that he had been right in assuming the base’s location. It didn’t matter, Luke told himself. There was no point denying the base’s existence if Vader already knew of it. “Why are you telling me this? Is this a trap?”

“How could it be a trap when I know of the location of the base already?”

Luke scowled. “How do you know where the base was?”

“Give me some credit, Commander.”

“You have spies in the rebellion.”

“I don’t need spies to locate the rebel base, considering the blatant lack of care that your rebel friends are exhibiting. There were several attacks on Imperial shipments in the area, all making use of short ranged assault vessels. The limping A-Wings they favor to use for their bombing runs can’t have come from anywhere further than one parsec.”

“They could have come from a carrier, not from a base,” Luke pointed out.

“Indeed, they could. But the rebellion has hardly the resources to spare to maintain a mobile base in the system just to steal supplies and fuel. What’s more the system is ideal to build a base.”

Luke grimaced. "You didn't deny that you have spies though."

"Of course there are spies, Commander." Vader said in a patronizing tone. "How else would I know that you are sharing your room with that Imperial defector by the name of Wedge Antilles?"

And Vader began listing names, quite a few of which Luke knew himself. Luke licked over parched lips.

“That was quite the shot that you managed at the battle of Yavin” Vader said unexpectedly into the ensuing silence. “Not many would have been able to pull off that shot, even with the Force at their side.”

Luke thought he could hear genuine admiration and pride in the vocoded voice. 

“Yet, you can’t have had much flight training before, if any,” Vader continued. “So, did you learn this on Tatooine?”

Luke scowled. Just how much did Vader know about him? “I am asking the questions here,” he said sharply, glad that his voice was still steady and not betraying his growing nervousness. He wouldn't let Vader interrogate him in turn.

“Of course you are, Commander. Fire away.”

Luke chewed his lip to stop his angry retort from bursting out at Vader's taunts. He needed to keep his calm. But it was so hard to resist the opportunity to find out those questions that had bugged him for weeks and months, ever since the large bounty had been posted on his head and the largest manhunt the Empire had ever conducted for a single dissident had started.

“How did you find out that it was me who destroyed the Death Star? Who told you my name?” Luke said, unable to keep this to himself.

“I cannot imagine that this is one of the questions you are to ask me,” Vader taunted.

“That’s none of your business. Just answer the question!” Luke snapped annoyed.

“Of course. In the wake of the Death Star’s destruction, many agents and bounty hunters were investigating your identity. Ultimately a bounty hunter called Boba Fett came across your life on Tatooine. I presume some of the locals have told him your identity.”

Vader paused for a moment, giving Luke the time to chew on what he had said.

“Of course, further investigations were made to collect information on you. Your guardian's moisture farm where you grew up was thoroughly searched and furnished with surveillance equipment in case you might return one day,” Vader continued.

Luke swallowed. He had long since planned a trip back to Tatooine in hopes of finding answers, maybe notes and information in Ben’s old hut, or maybe just closure for the events that had thrown him into this galactic conflict when he’d visit his aunt and uncle’s hastily dug graves. And maybe, just maybe a lead to find out more about his father.

“You ought not believe everything Obi-Wan told you, then you may yet be reunited with your father, Luke,” Vader said.

“Don’t call me that,” Luke snapped. “You have no right to call me that.”

“Apologies,  _Commander_ ,” Vader replied, humor tinting his voice. “Yet the truth is that I did not kill your father.”

Luke took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “My father was a Jedi,” he said. “I know what you and your Emperor did to the Jedi. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t you personally.”

“Your father is not dead,” Vader said.

Luke felt the color drain form his face.“You-you’re lying.”

 “I am not. Search your feelings and you’ll know it to be true, Vader urged. “But you are right in one aspect. He was a Jedi. Until he saw the errors of his way and renounced the Jedi. But don’t let me distract you,” he said, indicating at the datapad in Luke’s hand with a small nod of his head. “You have a lot more questions.”

Luke unclenched his fists with difficulty. Don’t let him rile you up, this is exactly what he wants. Vader wanted to cast doubt into Luke and make him question what Ben had told him. He needed to refocus on the task at hands and banish all thoughts of his father. Luke concentrated again on the datapad that he was clutching with wet hands. He read the next question. It was something about the long-range transmission codes, but his heart still pounded in his chest and the words just wouldn’t stick in his brain.

Movement in the corner of his eye made Luke look behind. An invisible force his him square in the back and Luke toppled backward. The floor came up to meet him and everything went black.

+++

Luke came round slowly. His arms and legs felt as heavy and cold as durasteel. The deep thrum of a hyperdrive was running through the deck plates Luke was laying on. He tried to sit up but failed. Luke brought his hands up to rub his face, finding his wrist clasped into heavy, unyielding binders. The same that Vader had worn when…

Luke sat bolt upright, the disjointed memories floating though his head finally making sense. Horrible sense.

Luke looked around. He was in the same dimly lit crew compartment of the rebel gunship where Captain Grhy had filled him in on his mission. Luke stared at the closed door to the cockpit. He had the feeling that he would not find any rebel at the helm. It had been a trap. Luke should have trusted his bad feeling that he had right from the start. Capturing Vader had sounded too good to be true. And if something sounds too good to be true, then it most likely is. Uncle Owen had always preached that.

Gathering his courage, Luke got to his feet and punched the door release to the cockpit. Sure enough. The massive form of Lord Vader occupied the pilot’s chair. There was no one else on board. Luke eyed around the cockpit. Maybe there was a way to overpower Vader and getting the vessels back the alliance before they inevitably reached the Imperial fleet.

But Vader had already noticed him. He turned to regard Luke.

“Where are the others?” Luke demanded without preamble.

“I see you are awake again,” he said. He waved a hand and the binders on Luke’s hand fell open. Luke shock them off and they fell to the floor. “You won’t need those anymore.”

Luke scowled. "How did you-, these are supposed to be impossible to open for you."

"Your rebel friends certainly believed so."

"So all this time you just pretended to be subdued," Luke said

"Indeed. A remarkable feat, considering your rebel friends disrespectful behavior."

“What did you do to them?“

“They are alive and reasonably well, young one," Vader said. "I have exerted more restraint than I should, given how they found it necessary to pose with me for pictures like I was some sort of attraction.”

“Do you think I pity you? You let yourself be captured. They should have killed you.”

“Believe me, they wanted to. But your precious High Command was blinded by their idea of their little show trial they were planning on giving me.”

“Where are you taking me?” Luke demanded reflexively, eying the blue swirl of hyperspace that occupied the small viewpanes. Though he had a fair idea of where their journey would end, and he was sure he wouldn’t like it a single bit.

Vader chose not to answer him. Luke dropped into the gunner's chair, far enough away from Vader to keep out of his immediate reach. "So, that's why you told me all this information. You never planned on letting me get away with it," he said glumly.

"How astute."

"But you forgot the surveillance equipment installed in the room," Luke said with vindication. "The other's will retrieve it and-"

"I am afraid the recording devices suffered a sudden lapse in performance from the moment you entered, Luke," Vader said. "You did not really expect me to overlook such an important details, did you?" 

Luke buried his face in his palms and groaned. 

+++

“Welcome back my Lord. I see your mission was successful.”

Luke scowled at the short captain, waiting for them at the foot of the boarding ramp that Vader dragged him down unceremoniously.

“Indeed.” Vader said, without slowing down or so much as loosening his grip on Luke’s arm.

The captain followed them through the hangar as a crew of technicians and troopers came at the captured rebel shuttle like a swarm of starved blood beetle, ready to take the enemy vessel apart in a bid to gather intelligence. Vader shoved Luke into the waiting turbolift at the far side of the hangar. When the doors had closed, he finally let go of Luke. Luke used the chance to retreat as far as he could, until his back was pressed into the wall of the turbolift.

Captain Piett watched him with raised eyebrows, blatant interest on his face. He only turned his attention back to Vader when the Dark Lord held out a small device that he had produced from a pocket on his belt. The captain accepted the device.

“Analyse the data on the transponder, it may allow for further conclusions on the rebels’ pattern of movement and hidden bases.”

“You were tapped the whole time?” Luke asked incredulous, his vow to remain silent momentarily forgotten.

Vader and the captain looked back at him. Piett even managed a pitying expression.

“There were several close encounters, the rebels were not very good at keeping away from monitored systems,” the captain reported, his attention back at Vader.

“Unsurprisingly,” Vader replied. The turbolift stopped and before the door opened again Vader’s hand shot out and closed around Luke’s upper arm again. “Rejoin the fleet, captain. I will take care of the young commander.”

The captain saluted and disappeared down the corridor. Vader tugged on Luke’s arm and Luke reluctantly started moving again.

“I can’t believe you planned out all of this just to get me,” Luke said quietly as he struggled to keep up with Vader’s wide strides. “Surely there should be easier ways to kill a single rebel.”

“I have no plans to kill you, Luke,” Vader said after a short silence.

Luke snorted. “Why else did you bring me here for other than to hand me over to your precious emperor for execution?”

“I plan on reuniting you with your father.”

Luke glared at Vader. “You mean, throw me into the same prison?”

“Your father is not a prisoner,” Vader said with the exasperated patience of someone trying to explain a simple thing to a child. “He is very eager to meet you.”

“He… he knows I’m-“ Luke broke off, not sure what to say. Coming? Alive? Whenever he had pictured his father alive and well, he had struggled with one thing: why hadn’t his father come back to him. If he knew of his existence then why had he never bothered to find him?

“He knows you are alive, Luke. Once he learned of your survival he did everything to get you back.

“Where is he?” Luke demanded.

Vader stopped in front of a door. “He is here.”

The door opened and Luke stepped in. He looked around the small Spartan room, devoid of anyone else. Vader stayed in the door, blocking the way out.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked. “There’s no one here, but-“ he broke off, a horrible realization wedging itself into the forefront of his mind. “No, please no…”

Vader placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“You have had a rough day, son,” he said. “We will talk at length when you have had rest.”

The door slid shut before Luke could say anything, leaving Luke alone to mull over one word for hours.

_Son._

+++


	11. The Imperial Galactic Seed Vault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born from an article that KaelinaLovesLomaris shared on tumblr with the title: I Can’t Protect My Son From Everything, But If I Lock Him In The Svalbard Global Seed Vault I’ve Narrowed The Threat Down To Just Seeds. If that's not like Vader, I don't know what is. So here is the short story inspired by this headline.

+++

Luke punched what felt like the hundredth door release. He walked in, hoping to find something else, but this room too was the same as each other Luke had so far examined. 

For hours he had roamed the place after waking up in unfamiliar surroundings, searching the long halls lined with identical rooms. No natural light penetrated the corridors, whose grey walls were all lit with the same dull glow panels set into the ceiling at regular intervals. Luke had no recollection how he had ended up here, but he was determined to leave as soon as possible.

So far he had found the place only occupied by myriads of droids, neither of which was equipped with human interface abilities, nor showed the slightest interest in Luke, even when he deliberated stood in their way. They were too focused on their task rolling busily between the rows upon rows of cooling shelves housing jars and boxes behind protective glass. 

Luke had yet to find a clue what the purpose of this installation was. But what he needed no more clues for was who ran this facility, as was evidenced by the Imperial cog plastered onto doors, on the droids and on every single jar Luke had examined.

Each jar he had looked at had contained nothing more than a few grains or a little dust. Each was labelled with meticulous details. ‘Alderaanian mountain Lilies, Alderaan collected 14-1-0’ read one of them, some dry, faintly purple seeds on the bottom of the jar. He had kept that jar, even though it was uncomfortably cold in his hands after he had taken it from the cooling shelf. He intended to give it to Leia, when or if ever he made it out of this maze. The Imperials had no right to anything from Alderaan.

Luke stepped closer to the first shelf and fished out with his free hand another one of the identical jars. This one was labelled with ‘Hwotha Berry tree, Dathomir, collected 10-5-7’. Luke eyed the shriveled up dark plums with a mixture of disgust and interest.

“I hope you planned on putting these back,” the man replied, eying the two jars in Luke’s hand with hawk-like eyes.

Luke glared at the man. He was wearing an Imperial uniform, yet unlike most Imperials Luke had encountered so far, he seemed little concerned when it came to regulations. The double breasted tunic was only half buttoned up, he had dispensed with the cap altogether and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. His salt-and-peppered hair stood off as if he had just clambered from his bunk.

“Where am I,” Luke demanded, his tone probably a few shades too ungracious considering his relief at finding another human in these vast halls and corridors even if it was an Imperial. He had to admit to himself that he had dreaded already that he would find this place devoid of any humans after all.

The man didn’t answer him, but he came closer, his eyes fixed on the jars in Luke’s hands. 

“Is that-” he said slowly, before he pounced and ripped the jar with the Alderaanian lilies from Luke’s hands, almost causing Luke to drop the second jar in his haste to jump back. “Are you crazy, young man? Do you have any idea how valuable these are? If this glass is destroyed or they unfreeze then we might never again have a clean uncontaminated sample of these precious plants. The last evidence of these beautiful flowers, irretrievably lost.”

“I… I’m sorry,” Luke said, to stop the man’s tirade.

It seemed to pacify the man. He turned on the spot leaving the room at a brisk pace.

Luke shoved the jar with the dried plums into the shelf and threw the door shut to keep the cold in. Then he hastened after him. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I’ll take these back where you snatched them away from,” the man grumbled. 

Luke fell back a few steps, but he kept following. 

The man opened another room halfway down the corridor and determinately made his way to the place where Luke had taken the jar from. Luke was secretly impressed how the man could navigate these identical and confusing halls and rooms with such certainty.

He wiped the glass with his sleeve and placed it almost reverently on the shelf where Luke had taken it from.

“Don’t touch any of the containers  _ ever  _ again,” he snapped, his raised finger almost poking Luke in the nose.

“What are all these anyway?” Luke asked, annoyed by his tone. “And where am I?”

The man’s glare disappeared. “This is the Imperial Galactic Seed Vault. They are samples from every plant, flower or tree in this galaxy.”

“Oh,” Luke said, nothing more intelligible coming to his mind. “Why does the Empire keep these?”

“Plants get destroyed and go extinct caused by environmental or natural disasters or mere carelessness.”

“Or entire planets get destroyed by the Empire.” Luke glowered at the man, who missed the jab completely.

“Exactly, such a shame. So many plants destroyed and lost forever if it weren’t for the seeds here. With these samples Alderaan could one day be replicated,” he replied, his eyes glowing with a manic happiness.

Luke rather didn’t point out that this was hardly true for the lives lost.

“I didn’t know you woke up already, or I’d have gotten you some food,” the man continued. “You are probably hungry.”

“I’d rather leave now.”

The Imperial rubbed his neck with his hand. “Um, well, you can’t leave.”

“Watch me,” Luke said, turning and marching back out in the corridor. 

“Wait, kid. It doesn’t work like this.”

Luke ignored him and marched on. Seeds or no seeds, he needed to leave.

“You don’t even know where you are going,” the Imperial called after him. 

Luke turned around a corner, speeding up. But after a good thirty minutes of prowling the corridors with renewed urgency, he had to admit that he was no closer to find an exit than he had been in all those hours before.

“Here you are.” The Imperial caught up with him.

“Where is the exit,” Luke demanded. 

“It’s two floors up to the south end,” the man supplied. “But you can’t leave.”

“Of course I can,” Luke said, determined.

“No, you can’t, I can’t either.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked suspiciously.

“Well, it’s a vault,” the man shrugged. “It only opens from the outside. And with the right codes, of course,” he added.

“What?” Luke stared at him dumbfounded. “How do you go out?”

“It’s a rotation, I’ve been here for two years. Still got two more to go.”

Luke eyed him with round eyes. 

“It’s not that bad. There are good rations, you can watch the holo most of the time and it’s really well paid. I’ll retire after my shift is completed. I volunteered for the job.”

“So you never go outside?”

“It’s impossible,” the Imperial said. “But there isn’t much to see up there anyway. It’s an ice planet. No habitation of any sentient life. And you’d freeze to death within minutes, if you were to stroll outside. By the way, I haven’t introduced myself,” he said. “I’m Atlas, Atlas Ornil.” He held out his hand.

Luke blinked. Surely the man had lost it over the past years he was locked in here turned on his heel again, leaving the man standing with his hand still stretched out. Luke found the staircase that he had used before. Two floors up he made his way into the direction Atlas had pointed. Sure enough. At the end of a very long corridor, Luke found a platform, marked with yellow warning signs and right above him on the ceiling identical markings. 

It had to be the exit.

But there was no control panel, button or lever. There was nothing but bare walls. Luke searched and swept the walls, in search for some hidden control panel. But there was absolutely nothing.

“Told you, you can’t open it from the inside,” the Imperial had caught up with him in time for Luke to sink down the wall in despair. He patted Luke awkwardly on the shoulder. “Hey, consider this, it could be worse. At least I talked him out of putting you into cryostasis.”

Luke looked up in horror. “Who wanted to freeze me?”

The man looked at him in surprise. “Lord Vader, of course. Boy, I tell you I was not prepared for him to stroll in here, delivering you. I had just ten minutes to prepare. No time to shave. Then he wanted to stuff you in our freezing unit, but I told him it’s not meant for larger organisms so he dropped the idea again.”

Luke barely listened. Vader. His memory returned, with just the mention of the name. Vader had caught him and then put him under with the Force before Luke had the chance to give it to Vader straight.

“.. tell, you, usually the door never opens in between shifts. But I don’t think I’ll mind the company,” Atlas was still going unperturbed. “It’s sure a nice break from routine.”

“I am not a seed and I didn’t volunteer either. I’m not staying,” Luke said angrily. 

“Well, the door won’t open for another two years, kid.”

“I need to speak to him,” Luke said.

“What? To Lord Vader?”

“Yes,” Luke said, determined. He pulled himself up from the floor. “You do have a comlink, don’t you?”

“I do, but do you really think that is a good idea?”

Luke wasn’t listening. He was already half down the hall.

“Wait, the long range transmitter is in here,” the Imperial called after him, making him stop.

Luke stepped into the small office next to the exit, that Atlas had called from. It was a mess of holopads, candy wrappers and lightpens. On the wall hung a mural of a collection of pictures of Imperial officers, all staring stiffly into the holocam.

“My predecessors,” he said, proudly. “In two years, there will be a picture of me too!”

“Anyone ever went mad in here?” Luke asked with mild interest.

“The bottom right one only made it a months before he started disassembling the droids. And the second on the top had to be relieved too, he weighed almost nothing when he was let out.” Atlas shook his head. “Refused to eat… well, not everyone can cope with it.”

A signal from the transmitter made them both turn away from the mural.

The distinct form of Lord Vader showed in the typical blueish tint. Before Vader or the Imperial could said anything, Luke jumped into the reception field.

“Father, you will come back  _ immediately  _ and get me out of here. This is taking things too far.”

+++


End file.
